Knights Templar
by Lady Margot
Summary: The armor of the last Master of the Knights Templar leads the Legacy on a chase against an old foe - in introduces them to possibly new friends.
1. Chapter 1

Knights Templar

Alexandra Moreau glanced around her in satisfaction, congratulating herself on the success of the evening. It wasn't every night that the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities hosted a charity benefit like this one. Everyone who was anyone in the world of academics and philanthropy was here, ostensibly to help raise money for the new Pediatrics ward at City hospital. All the members of her house were in attendance. Even Philip had made time away from his duties at his new parish to attend the event so that he could help support Alex's newest pet cause. But in reality, most were here to see the rare and lovely new additions to the museums collection. Especially the armor which had reportedly belonged to the first of the Grand Masters of the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon, Hugues de Payens. She smiled at Nick Boyle, who was standing in the far corner watching the guests as they moved through the exhibit hall.

"Nick looks uncomfortable." A voice behind her commented. Dr. Rachel Corrigan appeared beside her friend, her teal green silk gown a contrast to Alex's black satin dress.

"Ever since that amulet was stolen from the house during the cocktail party a few months ago, he's been nervous about security." Alex looked around for their precept Derek, and then shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"I hope so." Rachel remarked, watching her fellow Legacy member as he scrutinized each new arrival. "He's beginning to make some people nervous."

"He's making ME nervous." Alex laughed.

Across the room, Nick watched carefully as new people wandered into the exhibit hall. He knew that Alex thought his caution was excessive, a reaction to the events which had begun with the loss of the medallion belonging to the Dark Priest killed by Nick's father... But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something he should be prepared for. _"Damn it, you've been hanging around Derek too long"_ he thought to himself, _"Next thing you know, you'll be seeing things, just like he does."_ A movement at the door shook him from his reverie. A man and a woman moved through the entrance into the hall, gliding with silent footsteps around the exhibit. Nick watched them closely, an uneasy feeling creeping up his spine.

Alex noticed the couple as they entered and stopped in mid conversation, entranced. A fragment of a Barbara Streisand song floated through her head, something about morning glory and midnight sun. Those lyrics described the people walking around the exhibit hall perfectly. The man was tall, well over six feet, with a tanned complexion and golden blond hair. He radiated the warmth of a sunny day, lighting all the rooms' dark corners with his presence. Even his white tuxedo seemed to give off a light all its own. The woman beside him was tall and slender and his opposite in coloring, having pale skin and long black hair. Yet there was a light about her too, the light of a full moon, not so hot as the sun yet radiant in its own way. Her long dark dress seemed to reflect hidden fires in its silky folds. They walked from exhibit to exhibit, her hand on his up-raised wrist, like a knight on procession with his lady. They stopped only when they came to the Templar exhibit.

"Well, so here it is my sister. What do you think?" Damien Phoenix asked, looking down at the woman at his side. Phoenix was not the name he was born with yet it suited him to be known by it now. Just as it suited him for the world to believe that the woman at his side was his blood sister.

"Interesting. But not what we came for. I doubt they have found it yet. Jacques de Molay was a careful man. He would have hidden the words in something more secure than an old set of armor." Marianne leaned forward, ostensibly to examine the exhibit more closely. In fact, she was more intrigued by the man in the corner who stood watching them intently. She had been through enough killing grounds to recognize the aura of a fellow soldier, just by the stance and the look in their eyes. That "thousand yard stare" that they all developed over time. "The Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon. It was a good concept. Pity they had to become so political."

"So rich you mean." Damien laughed softly.

"Wealth brings notice and not always the best type of notice. By the way, we appear to have an audience, my brother."

"So it would seem. What shall we do about it?" Damien looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Alex and Rachel watching them from a distance. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?"

"Damien, we are here only to look, not to socialize."

"Tactics, my dear. Always keep the enemies guessing."

"But they aren't the enemy, dearest." Marianne's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure entering the gallery and hissed angrily. "But he is." She pulled away from her escort's arm and walked boldly up to Nick, her hands clenched behind her back. "Are you in charge of security here?" she asked haughtily, noting the bulge of a shoulder holster barely concealed by his tuxedo coat.

"Who wants to know?" Nick asked warily, his eyes still on her male companion.

"My name is unimportant but you may call me Marianne. And you my friend are about to be robbed." she replied, nodding toward the newest arrival. "That one is here for the something in your exhibit. Beware, soldier, lest he breech your defenses."

Nick glanced speculatively at the man she indicated. "Seems harmless enough." He answered, looking back at her.

"Appearances can be deceiving." Damien walked up and took his sister by the hand. "Look again and use more than your eyes to see."

Nick looked again. The man did appear to have an inordinate interest in the security system around the Templar exhibit, leaning cautiously close to the large display case to examine its construction carefully. "Not very subtle, is he?"

"He does not need to be." Marianne replied, taking her brother's arm. "He is only a diversion, a pawn sacrificed in the larger game. It is the one who commands him you must be wary of."

"And just who might that be?" Derek asked, stepping into the exhibit room from the far gallery. He had watched the exchange between Nick and these strangers from the far doorway with interest, until he had noticed the man at the armor exhibit. He wasn't sure why he knew something was wrong, only that he did. His unease had mounted when he heard the woman's warning to Nick.

"That is a tale for a later date." Damien replied, gently tugging his sister towards the door.

"Wait a minute! Just who are you people?" Nick demanded. "Why were you so interested in the armor?"

"Later days, my friend. Later days." With that the two walked from the hall, leaving as silently as they had arrived.

Nick immediately raced out the door behind them and stopped, stunned. He could see the entire length of the adjoining hallway and beyond to the street. But their strange visitors were no where to be seen. They had vanished without a trace.


	2. Chapter 2

Pt. 2

Derek watched the man standing in front of the exhibit carefully, certain that Nick could take care of their mysterious guests without him. The stranger seemed oblivious to his scrutiny, more concerned with the chain-mail haubrick and coif in the case before him. The thick glass of the exhibit case prevented him from actually touching the armor, so he moved around and around the case, trying to see its contents from all possible angles. He seemed most interested in the one small section of the metal shirt, a portion Derek couldn't see from his vantage point. But it certainly seemed to have the stranger's interest.

"They got away from me." Nick's voice, tight with frustration, broke through Derek's concentration. "One minute they were there and the next they were gone."

"Perhaps our friend over there can enlighten us on why this particular exhibit is attracting so much attention." Derek commented, motioning to the figure across the room.

"I can ask." Nick replied grimly, starting for his quarry. The lights choose that moment to suddenly flicker off, leaving the narrow gallery in total darkness. Someone uttered a nervous scream. Other guests began to speak in high, nervous tones as they felt around them for the exit.

"Alex, find Miranda Blake." Derek ordered, his calm voice piercing the shadows. "She should know where the circuit breakers for this room are." Suddenly, the lights returned, blinding the room for an instant. When Derek's eyes recovered, he saw that his curious guest had disappeared.

"Another disappearing act." Nick commented in disgust. He marched up to the glass case which had been the center of so much interest and eyed it speculatively. "At least he didn't get away with this. What's so special about this hunk of metal anyway?"

"Aside from being a historical oddity, not much really. It was found in a place called Ruad, a Templar installation in Palestine." Alex commented, walking up to join her friends. "It was a donation from an anonymous benefactor in Syria and come with fairly complete documentation. According to the paperwork, it was sent specifically for the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities. But when I spoke to Miranda Blake, the assistant curator, she seemed to feel it might be a hoax, though she couldn't say exactly why she felt that way."

"So who was this guy, Hugues de Payens?" Nick asked, curiously.

"He was the first Grand Master of the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon, better known as the Knights Templar." Derek replied, moving to stand in front of the exhibit. "The order was founded in the Holy Land in 1118 A.D. and assumed the duty of protecting Christian pilgrims and merchants traveling through the Holy Land. They took upon themselves monastic style orders and vows of poverty and chastity. With the backing of Bernard of Clairvaux or St. Bernard and Pope Innocent II they built themselves into a fighting force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, they also acquired much wealth as well as great fighting glory. They were accused of heresy in 1306 and by 1314 were for the most part destroyed." His voice trailed off as he remembered the stories of the Knights Templar his father had told him as a boy, before the Legacy had become the only thing of importance in Winston Rayne's life.

"Sounds like you know a lot about these guys." Nick remarked, glancing back at Alex.

"Yes, I was fascinated by them as a young boy." Derek glanced back at his comrades. "But that does not explain why our mysterious guests were so fascinated with what might be a hoax. Nick, check the security cameras. See if you can print out a photo of our visitors. Alex, check with Miranda Blake. See if anyone has been asking about the exhibit recently, especially this particular piece. And see if you can come up with a name for our anonymous benefactor." He turned his eyes back to the armor, frowning at the sight of the broken links hanging from the chain-mail shirt. For a moment, the room seemed to spin and he remembered a dream. At least, it had seemed to be a dream.

"Something wrong?" Rachel asked, quietly moving to stand beside her friend.

Derek looked down at her, startled at her sudden presence. "No. Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking..."

"You looked like you were remembering something not too terribly pleasant."

"A dream I had as a boy. The Knights Templar was the one interest my father and I shared when I was young. Before he became obsessed with the druid's casks."

"What was your dream about?"

He frowned as the memory came unbidden to his mind. The dream had come to him after the death of his father, after the funeral which had laid Winston Rayne's body, if not his obsession, to rest. Derek had pulled out a favorite tome, a history of the Crusades written for young adults. Its stories of Saladin and the Christian knights who fought against him had always served to take his mind off his father's growing disinterest in anything but his work for the Legacy. Tonight, however, they seemed more like fairy tales than reality. His eyes closed with fatigue and he had drifted off into a troubled sleep. It was then that he had dreamed had seen the battle of Acre as it unfolded before him. He saw the Knights Templar, with the red cross pattern on their banner flying raggedly above the walls. The battle almost over and the defenders were losing. He watched in fascinated horror as the knights died, fighting a hopeless cause. One man in particular stood out in his dream, yet he couldn't quite see his face. Only the triangular shield he held before him as he tried to fight his way to his brethren's side. As he went down under several attackers, his helm fell and his face was revealed. It was then that the young boy had awakened, drenched in sweat.

"I dreamed of the Battle at Acre. And of a man falling at the hands of the enemy. A face I recognized yet didn't. Strange, I hadn't thought of that dream in years." He looked back at the armor, frowning then turned away. "We'd better return to the island. I have a feeling that tonight's excitement is only the beginning." He led her away, stopping only to cast one last thoughtful look at the only lasting possession of the first of the Knights that had once filled his dreams. Then he and his team were gone, leaving the room and its contents to their secrets.


	3. Chapter 3

Pt. 3

The team returned to Angel Island and retired to their various tasks. Nick checked the house's security system, as he had done every night since the Dark Priest's sons had sabotaged the system. Alex walked through the hologram into the computer room to begin a search for the mysterious donor of the Museums newest exhibit. Derek secluded himself in his study, a copy of the manifest which had accompanied the gift of amour scattered across his desk. A copy of a reference book he had retrieved from the library also lay on the desk, open to a drawing of a Templar in full battle armour. He read through the list of pieces with interest. The inventory listed the existence of a mail helmet or haubers, mail leg protection called chauces de fer, armour for the shoulders and feet and a triangular body-shield. He frowned at the last listing.

"Something wrong?" Nick asked, stepping through the partially closed door.

"Yes. This manifest lists a shield as part of the display. But there was no shield in that case, only the armour. So where is it?"

"Maybe it was too big to fit in the case." Nick replied, walking around the desk to look at the paperwork in Derek's hands.

"No. The display case was designed to accommodate a life-size mannequin wearing that armour. The shield would have fit within the case perfectly. Somehow it never made it to the display area." Derek shut the reference book gently, his hand brushing it's well-worn cover fondly.

"If it was in as bad a condition as that chain-mail was, the movers probably mistook it for a part of the packing crate. It's probably still in the storeroom. So you think that what both our weird visitors were looking for was on that shield.?"

Derek gathered up the loose pages of the manifest with a sigh. "We won't know until we find it."

"Want me to check on it tonight?"

"Yes. I'll call the curator and make sure there is someone waiting to let you in."

Nick started for the door then stopped and looked back at his precept. "What do you think is going on here, Derek? What's so important about some old armour?"

"I'm not sure." Derek admitted, rubbing his tired eyes. "But I think it is something that we need to look into."

On the opposite shore two figures walked along the edge of the water, their feet leaving almost no impression on the wet sand behind them. Damien stared across at Angel Island soberly.

"I wonder how much he remembers." He commented thoughtfully, stopping to let the water play around his boots.

"If he remembers." Marianne corrected, kneeling to dig a stone out of the sand to toss into the waves.

"Oh he remembers. The dreams have remained with him since his father's death. They have fueled his interest in the Order. Now that interest has made him the recipient of a gift he knows nothing about. It will arouse his curiosity. He will search for answers and we will walk just a step behind, ready when the time comes to intervene."

Marianne dipped her hands in the ripples of waves as they flowed over her "brother's" boots. "Hopefully before the other party in this hunt shows up. By the way, there was something missing in that exhibit tonight."

"Yes, the shield." Damien replied absently.

"You might have told me you noticed that while we were there."

"Didn't I? I must be getting forgetful in my old age." His smile lit up the darkness as he helped the woman beside him stand.

"No, you just enjoy testing my powers of observation. After all these years, a person would think you would get tired of these games. Especially considering the importance of what we are searching for." Marianne wiped her wet hands on her companion's dinner jacket, noting with grim satisfaction the muddy stain which marred it's perfect whiteness. She gathered her long, dark skirts around her ankles and started down the beach.

"I take it you're going to return and look for the shield." Damien called out to her, watching her figure slowly melt into the fog.

The only answer he received was the call of a night bird as it winged its way toward the lights of the city.


	4. Chapter 4

Pt. 4

Derek sat in the near darkness of the library, a snifter of brandy in one hand. In his lap was the worn tome he had been using to refresh his memory on the details of the standard Templar armour. The book was open to a description of the siege of Acre, more precisely to a description of the battle around St. Anthony's Gate. He had no need of light to know what was written on the pages before him. Derek had read that particular passage dozens of times. He closed his eyes and thought of that desperate battle, when both the Templars and the Hospitallers had fought overwhelming odds to save the city. He could almost feel the desert heat on his skin, the heavy weight of the chain-mail shirt on his shoulders and in the distance, the cries of dying men.

"Derek? Are you all right?" Alex asked, standing just inside the entrance to the shadowy room.

"Just thinking." He replied, not opening his eyes.

"Don't you need a light to read?"

"No. I know this story by heart." Derek opened his eyes and shifted the book in his lap, the better to reach the lamp beside him. "It is the story of the battle at St. Anthony's Gate during the siege of Acre." He lay his glass down beside the chair and turned a few pages, letting the book open to them on its own.

"What happened?" she asked, coming to sit beside him on a footstool.

"In 1291 Sultan al-Ashraf laid siege to the city of Acre, one of the Templar strongholds. One evening, the defenders attempted a sortie beyond the city walls into the Moslem camp. They suffered heavy losses as the knights tripped over guy-ropes in the dark. The next day the Moslems launched their own attach at St. Anthony's Gate, which was one of the main landward gates of the city. Only the bravery and fighting skill of the Templars and their brothers knights, the Hospitallers kept the gate from being breached and the city from falling. But they paid a heavy price. The Templar's Grand Master, Guillaume de Beaujeu was mortally wounded and died soon afterwards. After that battle, an effort began to evacuate as many from the city as possible. The city fell and the Templars retreated to their castle, where they held out for weeks. Eventually, even that fell and the Templars never again fought a major battle in the Holy Land. It was as though when their stronghold at Acre fell, their hearts fell with it." Derek sighed, a familiar feeling of sadness and loss stealing over him.

"You make it sound as though you were there." Alex remarked, looking at her prefect with curiosity.

"Do I? Sometimes I feel as though I were. When I was a boy, after my father died, I would have dreams about the battle to protect the Templar palace at Acre. I could see the battle, feel it, even smell it going on all around me. Eventually the dreams faded away yet even now, all these years later, I still remember them. And the feelings they awakened in me."

"Seeing that armour display tonight must have reminded you of those dreams." Alex rose and stretched, her muscles cramped from sitting in so low a chair. "You look tired, maybe you should turn in."

"I will as soon as Nick calls in. I sent him back to the museum to check on something that appeared on the manifest but didn't appear in the display." He hefted the old book onto to table beside him and rose from his seat. "Did you find anything about our mysterious donor?"

"Nothing yet, but I'm still working on it. I may have something by morning. Anyway, I'm going to bed unless you want me to wait for Nick with you?"

"No. Go ahead. I will see you in the morning." Derek walked passed her towards the study. Alex watched him disappear behind the heavy mansion doors with a frown, then made her way upstairs to her bed.

It took Nick the better part of an hour to reach the Museum. The ferry had been late in getting him off the island then it seemed that every traffic light between the pier and downtown had conspired to turn red on him. He finally pulled into the alley way behind the building housing the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities, just in front of the deliveries entrance. No one else was in sight.

"_I thought Derek was going to call the Curator to meet me here"_ he thought, scanning the area with a practiced eye. The scene was too quiet, even for this late hour. He walked up to the service entrance and gently touched the door. It swung open soundlessly, revealing the dark interior beyond. Nick pulled his 9mm Browning and prepared to enter.

"Frontal assaults aren't always the best way into a battle, soldier." A voice called from the deepest shadows at the alley's center. "But sometimes they are all that's available." Marianne walked out of the darkness, her long dress replaced with dark jeans and a black turtle-neck. Her long hair was braided down her back and she wore black gloves over her slender hands. She was carrying a Colt 45 in one hand and Nick could see a sheathed dagger hanging from her belt.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, keeping her in his gun sights.

"Same as you. Looking for that shield. And I suspect we're not the only ones." She peered into the doorway, squinting in the dim light. "Unfortunately, it seems the Museum's Curator found our competitor's before we did." She pointed into the gloom.

Nick risked a glance in the direction she indicated, keeping his gun trained on the woman in front of him. He could barely make-out a figure lying just beyond the door, behind some crates. "Stay where you are. I'm going to check on him."

"Not on your life, soldier. My quarry is somewhere within the walls of this establishment. And I never give up a hunt until I've caught my prey." With those words, she deftly moved past him into the gloom, avoiding the debris in her path.

Nick grabbed at her arm, only to be shoved back by a force he could not identify. For a moment, he wondered if he had accidentally touched an exposed electrical wire, yet there was no smell of burning flesh or pain. Only a feeling of being shoved out of the way by something or someone. His eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, allowing him to pick a path through the multitude of crates and tables in the delivery area. He could see her dark figure just in front of him, picking her own way through the debris. Suddenly she stopped and motioned toward him.

"Over here." Marianne hissed, waving him to her. She pointed through an open doorway into a receiving room, where the items were obviously unpacked and examined. Two silent figures were diligently searching the contents of a crate, a small fluorescent light their only illumination. "They haven't found what they seek yet."

Nick considered his options carefully. "Two against two. Not bad odds. If I can trust you, that is." He whispered, his eyes never leaving her face.

"You can't." Marianne replied, holstering her gun and unsheathing her hunting knife. "But for now, I'm all you have." She lowered herself to the ground and crawled into the room on her belly, keeping to the shadows at all times.

Nick soon lost her in the gloom. He spotted the light switch for the room close to his position and debated adding a light to the situation, then thought better of it. He watched the men from his vantage point as they reached to the bottom of the crate and hauled something up from its depths. To Nick, it looked like nothing more than another piece of wood. But the way the men were acting, it was obvious that this was the elusive shield. One man reached down to retrieve something from behind the crate. He disappeared into the shadows surrounding the container. His companion looked around a few moments later, suddenly aware he was alone, and moved towards the crate. Nick decided it was time to make his stand. Standing with his back to the wall and his gun trained on the moving figure in the room, he flipped the light switch on.

"Freeze!" he called, squinting against the sudden glare from the exposed light fixture.

The man in front of him whirled, a gun in his hand. A figure lunged out at the burglar from behind, knocking him to the floor. Marianne grasped the man by his hair and proceeded to bang his head on the wooden floor, knocking him unconscious. She wiped her hand on the back of the man's shirt as she rose, and then glanced over at Nick.

"I was wondering if you would try that." She commented. Looking down at the table, she gently brushing the packing material off the piece of wood in front of her.

"Where's the other one?" Nick asked, edging around table to take the fallen burglar's gun.

"There behind the crate." Marianne replied, pointing behind her.

Nick cautiously moved to the rear of the packing crate and saw the other man's body. As Nick bent to check for a pulse, Marianne quickly brushed dirt from a section of the shield. Her dark eyes swept over the intricate designs buried under layers of grime. She turned her back on the table and watched Nick search the unconscious body in front of him.

"No ID, right?" she asked, nudging the body in front of her with her toe. With her arms crossed over her chest, she palmed a small object from her glove, sliding it into her other palm

"None." Nick agreed, rising to walk towards her. "He's out cold. What did you do to him?"

"Not much. He's lucky. I could have killed him. There was a time when I would have." Marianne smiled grimly, remembering those long-ago days. "You'll find out who sent them soon enough. Find who sent this armour to your precept and you'll find your adversary." With a sudden flip of her wrist, she tossed a small object at the overhead light, breaking the bulb and plunging the room into darkness. Nick reacted swiftly; lunging for the place he had last seen the strange woman. But Marianne was quicker, flipping backwards over the table and out the door before she could be caught. "Better luck next time, soldier." She called, her voice fading into the shadows.

Nick slammed his fist down on the table in frustration, barely missing the wooden shield. "_Derek's going to love this_" he thought, reaching for his cellular phone. "_How the hell did she know to call him a precept? And what the hell did she want here anyway, if it wasn't the shield?_" He glanced down at the bodies at his feet and grimaced. It was turning into a very long night.


	5. Chapter 5

Pt. 5

Derek laid the receiver back in its cradle, lost in thought. He had been in the process of opening an old book of his father's on the Templar heresy trial when the ex-Seal had reported back to his precept. Nick's message had not been totally unexpected. Derek had expected there would be trouble at the Museum, and his instinct had proven him right. Nick called after the police had arrived, telling his associate of his little adventure and of the mysterious woman from the party. He had sounded more than a little aggravated that she had escaped before he could find out more about her and her interest in the Templar armour.

"_Friend or foe?_" Derek thought to himself, absently tapping the old book's cover. It had been a very long time since he had seen this book, had in fact almost forgotten that is was in the House. The book had been a gift to his father from an old friend, Maurice de Lacy, a member of the Paris House. He lifted opened the book to the pages relating to Jacques de Molay, grand master at the time of the arrests by King Philip the Fair of France, a historical event which had fascinated his father. Just inside the first few pages he found a fading cream-colored envelope. Derek examined the strange item with surprise, noting the date on the front was written in his father's painfully precise handwriting. Inside was a single snapshot, with a small piece of paper wrapped around it. The paper was a note from Winston Rayne to his friend de Lacy. The note was dated almost a week before Winston's death in South America.

"Maurice," the note read, "I am sending you this photo in hopes that you can identify the people in it. I dare not send it via the normal Legacy channels. I will explain why later. Whatever happens, tell no one of what you find. I will contact you soon." It was signed Winston Rayne.

Derek turned the photo over then stiffened in surprise. The two people in the picture had obviously been photographed in the garden of the San Francisco Legacy House. The woman was seated on a stone bench, a horn bow and a full quiver of arrows at her feet. She was staring up at her companion with a bemused expression on her face. The man was standing beside her, his head thrown back in laughter. He was leaning on a long bow almost as tall as he was. Derek stared at the faces intently, using a magnifying glass to see what few details existed in the grainy snapshot. There could be no doubt. The people in the photo were the same as the couple at the museum, the same two who had warned of a possible theft. They had been in this house before and, as far as he could tell, had not changed in twenty years.

The next morning, Nick threw himself into his seat at the conference table, still annoyed by the events of the night before. He had stayed at the museum long enough to make sure that the injured Curator was taken care of and the burglars were taken away by the police. The museum had many priceless artifacts in its collection, so it had not been too difficult to divert the authorities' attention from the old shield on the workroom table. As soon as they had left, he had hauled the broken piece of wood out to his car and had driven back to Angel Island with it. He looked suddenly up at Rachel with a tired smile. "Hey, where's Kat? I thought I heard her voice when I was coming down the stairs."

"She wasn't feeling well today, so I kept her out of school. I told her she could sit out in the garden and draw while she waited for me."

Derek walked in and seated himself at the head of the table. "What did you find out about the shield?"

"It's nothing but a broken, painted piece of wood, Derek." Nick commented, playing with his pencil. "Why go to all that trouble?"

"Alex, what did you find out about the donation of the armour?" Derek asked, ignoring Nick's question.

"It's strange. The bill of lading says it was shipped from Syria, but I can't find anyone willing to admit they shipped it. It's like it just appeared out of thin air, paper work and all."

"Surely there must be customs records?" Rachel protested, "That crate couldn't have crossed all those international borders without someone noticing, could it?"

"If a terrorist could get a bomb aboard an airliner in one of the busiest airports in the world, what makes you think someone couldn't get a nearly empty packing crate across a few borders?" Nick replied sarcastically. "Especially if they had all their phony permits arranged before hand."

Philip walked quietly into the conference room, silently acknowledging his comrades greetings with a nod. "I've looked over the item that Nick brought back with him last night. It's in pretty bad shape, but once I cleaned a little of the grime off of it, I could just make out some Arabic lettering hidden in the heraldic imagery painted on its face. I haven't had a chance to translate it much of it yet, but it seems to be some sort of riddle."

"That is not the only riddle in this case." Derek commented, tossing the snapshot he had found to Nick. "Do these people look familiar to you?"

"Our guest from last night." Nick replied, looking sharply up at his precept. He turned the photo over and frowned. "The date on this is twenty years old!"

"My father was sending this to a friend in the Paris house, Maurice de Lacy, shortly before his death. My father's obsession with the Druid's casks must have side-tracked him from this. Yet he was concerned enough about these people to warn de Lacy not to talk to anyone about anything he might find."

"Do you remember them at all?" Rachel asked, as Nick slid the photo across the table to her.

"No, they must have been in the House after I was sent to boarding school." Derek moved from behind the table and entered the library, the other members of the House following behind him. He retrieved his father's journals from their assigned space on the shelf then sat down to examine them. He flipped to the last entries, scanning the writing for some clue to the people in the photo. When he reached the last entries in the journal he stopped. "He writes of two members of the Mother House who had transferred just a few weeks before the date on that letter. Their names were Daniel and Megan Solaris, a brother and sister from London."

"Why would he have wanted to send that photo to a member of the Paris House if they had come from London?" Alex asked, reading the entries over Derek's shoulder.

'Maurice had been part of the London House at the time they said they had belonged there. From what he writes, I think he had come to doubt their story, even though they had all the proper identification." Derek closed his father's journal gently, then looked around at his team. "Philip, you will work on that shield. I need a translation of whatever is written on it as soon as possible. Rachel, you and Alex go back down to the museum and talk to the assistant curator. See if she remembers anything about our mysterious guests. Nick, talk to the police. See if they have discovered anything about the museum's uninvited guests from last night. I'm going to try to reach Maurice de Lacy."

"Is that wise, considering the doubts you've had about the Paris House since my last visit there?" Alex frowned, remembering the chilling image of Paris fog and the dead body of their associate laying on the damp pavement.

"Maurice retired from the Legacy almost ten years ago. With any luck, whatever touched the Paris House won't have affected him." He rose from his seat, effectively ending the conversation.

Outside in the garden, Kat was growing bored with drawing flowers and butterflies. She had woken that morning with a slight fever and so had been allowed to stay out of school. But the enforced inactivity was almost as wearing to her as the illness was. She curled up on the bench with her knapsack and drawing pencils and closed her eyes, tired and achy. Suddenly, she felt a cool hand smooth back the damp hair from her forehead.

"Poor little kitten," A strange voice whispered sympathetically, "You probably feel quite awful don't you?"

Kat opened her eyes and saw a woman in a short white dress kneeling beside her. At the woman's feet was what appeared to be a curved bow and a round cylinder full of feathered arrows. The woman's dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail and Kat could see that she was wearing half-moon shaped earrings. But it was the woman's eyes which held her spell-bound. They were the deepest, loveliest violet that Kat had ever seen, eyes at once so blue and yet so purple that they didn't look real.

The woman smiled gently at the startled child and rose to her feet. "You should really be inside, you know. It's not good for you to be lying on a damp bench when you're sick."

"Who are you?" Kat asked, curiously.

"What's your favorite name?" The woman responded, hoisting her arrows on her back.

"I don't have one."

"Well, I have several. Favorite names, that is. Diana, Artemis, Marianne. Pick one and that's what you can call me."

"I like Marianne." Kat admitted, trying not to stare at the bow which lay on the ground.

"Marianne it is then. And you're Kat, aren't you? Do you like my bow and arrows, Kat? Don't tell me you've never seen their like before! Haven't you ever shot arrows into the air and wondered where they fell?"

"No. I'd like to, though. How did you know my name was Kat?"

"You just look like a kitty cat to me." Marianne touched the child's cheek with one slender finger, then picked up her bow and bound off toward the shore. She turned for one last wave as she reached the edge of a grove of trees. "See you another time, kitten." With that she turned and was soon lost to the child's sight.

Kat gathered up her colored pencils and blank paper and began to draw her new friend, her illness forgotten in the rush of a new friendship.


	6. Chapter 6

Pt. 6

"Derek, I've found something strange that I think you should look at." Alex looked up at her precept, a frown on her expressive face. She had returned hours before from talking to the museum curator about the chain-mail armor in the display case. "I decided to run a check in the Legacy's database on the names in your father's journal. According to the computer, they had been a part of the Mother House only a few weeks when they were re-assigned to this house. Then they suddenly disappear from the records. There's no record of why they were admitted to the Legacy and no record of why they were reassigned."

Derek scanned the computer screen impassively. "Check and see if there are any other occurrences of a sibling pair claiming membership in the Legacy who might match our two."

"Already did that. That's what's so strange. There were numerous brother-sister teams listed in the database so I factored in physical characteristics. And on a whim, I factored in an interest in Medieval studies, particularly an interest in the Templars. The list of names the computer found, scanning both present and archived Legacy journals, goes back over a hundred years."

"Is there anyway to narrow the search down any further?"

"I don't think we need to." Alex moved her cursor over a small icon on her computer screen and began to download an image. "Along with written records, I had the computer do a search for any photographic material linked to the names in these records. It pulled up three photos that had recently been scanned into the databanks. I downloaded the low resolution versions of the photos, which appear to run from a daguerreotype taken around the time of the Civil War to a photo taken during the Korean Conflict. Derek, it's those same two people!"

Derek watched as the image on Alex's screen came into view. It was the scan of the daguerreotype, with the man in a Confederate officer's uniform and the woman in antebellum costuming. The man's hair was short and he wore a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. The woman's athletic figure was almost totally hidden by the wide hoop skirt and her hair was tucked up under a large straw hat. But there could be no doubt. It was the same two people from the museum. As he looked at the photo, Derek suddenly felt himself no longer in the familiar surroundings of the computer room. Before him were images from another time. There was something different about this vision, something he had not seen in his dreams. He could feel himself back on the battlefield in the Holy Land. The battle was raging all around him when a movement off to his left caught his eye. It was a woman, dressed in a faded russet gown, her long hair braided with red cords. The circlet which held her veil on her head gleamed dully in the bright sunlight. It was the woman who had introduced herself as Marianne. She turned her violet eyes to him and he could hear her voice, even over the sounds of the battle. "There will be another time, chevalier. Another time. Nothing is forgotten." He closed his eyes as a wave of pain washed through him.

"Derek, are you all right?" Alex asked, concern in her voice.

"Yes. Just a flash of something… I'm not sure what. Something I'm supposed to remember." He looked down at the image on the screen again with a frown. "Somehow, I think I'm supposed to know them. But why or how is a mystery to me."

"There's another mystery here." Philip remarked, walking into the computer room. "The writing on that shield is a code. I have the computer trying to make sense of it, but I think we're missing the key to how to read it."

"Maybe it's in these photos I took of the armor." Alex offered, pulling some snapshots from a folder on the desk. "I noticed that there was some sort of design woven into the metal links. It was almost invisible because of the condition of the metal, but you can just make out some letters."

Philip looked the photos over carefully. "You may be right Alex. The words on the shield didn't make much sense as written, but with these added, the message may become clearer. Let me feed them into the computer and see what we get."

Derek left his two companions to their work. He retrieved a book from the library and decided to take it outside to read as he was beginning to feel claustrophobic within the confines of the mansion. Outside, a dense fog had rolled up from the sea, covering the garden in a blanket of haze. Derek looked around ruefully, the chill seeping into his bones.

"Not a very pleasant day is it?" a voice from beside him commented. A figure of a man appeared out of the fog, walking towards him with confidence. He wore an English riding habit and carried a short riding crop. It was the young man from the museum, the man in the photo who Winston Rayne had identified as Daniel Solaris. "I dislike any day which separates me from the warmth of the sun."

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked, stepping between the stranger and the mansion door.

"Just wandering around. It's been a while since last I was here. So very long ago…" The stranger smiled warmly at him. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"I don't know you. I'm not even sure what to call you. Daniel or _"

"Daniel was one of my names. I've had many. Most totally unpronounceable. Today, I am known as Damien. That was what you called me before. Don't you remember?"

"We've never met." Derek responded brusquely.

"But we have, chevalier. Nothing is forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten."

The pain in Derek's head increased suddenly from a dull roar to a piercing ache. The world began to tilt around him. He sank to the ground, his hands clutching his temples. A wave of vertigo washing over him. All the familiar sights around him turned vividly colorful and yet hazy, like a Van Gogh painting. For a moment, the man before him seemed to change, seeming to glow with an inner light. Around him, small flames seemed to dance up, reaching to caress the glowing brilliant figure. Even his golden hair seemed to be alive with light. Then he was as had been before, nothing more than a handsome young man.

"Enough, brother. You'll hurt him." Marianne walked out of the fog and approached her brother. She also wore a riding habit, and her long hair was braided down her back in one long tress. "You agreed to leave him to me. I wish him to remember what was before, but in my own good time."

"You worry too much over him. You always did." He looked down at the man at his feet, his handsome face impassive. "This time, I thought you would choose the soldier."

"I've not decided." Marianne replied, gently stroking Derek's hair. "They both have aspects which appeal to me."

"Make haste with your decisions, sweet sister. Time grows short. We must find what was hidden for us soon, lest it be lost in the night forever." Damien turned and strolled away, swinging the riding crop nonchalantly in his hand.

Marianne gently turned Derek's face towards hers, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Hear me, chevalier. You will remember nothing of this. Not my brother's presence here, not his words, not the pain. That which was past must know be known and when it is, you will remember all." She passed her hand over his eyes to close them, then gently stroked his forehead. She waited until the pain the resurgent memories had brought with them had receded then rose and walked away, leaving the scent of wild roses in her wake.

Derek's eyes opened with a start and he looked around himself in confusion. "_How did I get on the ground?_" he thought, rising from his knees. "_I came outside to read and…Why can't I remember?_" He looked around himself at the strange yet familiar world of the castle's garden then started hesitantly back inside. At the door he stopped and took a deep breath. "_Roses? But there are no roses in this garden?_" he wondered, taking one last look about him. Then with a puzzled sigh, he returned to the mansion and its new mystery.


	7. Chapter 7

Pt. 7

"Derek!" Nick called out, letting the mansion's door slam behind him. He shifted the package he had picked up at the museum to a more secure position under his arm. "Where is everyone?'

"Chill out Nick." Alex replied, walking out of the library. "They can probably hear you back on the mainland."

"Where's Derek?" Nick asked, ignoring her comments.

"Here." Derek called from the landing, looking down the stairs at his friends. He had been in his room nursing the remnants of a splitting headache when he had heard Nick's car come roaring up the drive. Derek had wondered what had become of the young soldier, as it had been hours since he had sent him to speak to the police. Usually, Nick would call in as soon as his mission was accomplished.

"Those guys who broke into the museum are sitting tight, waiting to be brought before a judge. The police lieutenant I spoke to says neither of them appears to have a record and with good enough lawyers they might make bail. The District Attorney isn't complaining too much. They're only little fish. Convicting them won't win him re-election." Nick handed his awkward package to his precept. "I stopped by the museum on the way back. Looks like our mysterious donor is still out there. This package arrived for you this morning. No one knows where it came from or how it got to museum. All anyone knows was that it was found with today's mail." Nick gave the package a little shake, a grim smile on his face. "I had the museum x-ray it. Looks like some sort of book."

Derek walked into his study and laid the bundle on his desk. It was addressed to him at the museum. He examined the wrapping carefully, noting the lack of any sign as to how it was shipped. With Alex's help he soon unwrapped package and found himself staring at a manuscript, carefully wrapped in plastic. Derek slipped on a pair of white gloves and carefully unwrapped the plastic overlay. Its simple binding consisted of weathered dark leather. The pages of the document were hand-written, in a style reminiscent of medieval texts he had seen at Oxford. But this was no holy tome, lovingly copied by a monk's hands. There were no illuminations, as would have been used in such early books. The team examined the writing carefully.

"It appears to be a personal journal. At least, I think that's what it is. It's in Latin." Derek commented ruefully.

"Can you translate it?" Alex asked, glancing up at Nick with a frown.

Nick shrugged and retrieved the brown paper wrapping for latter study.

Derek looked over the first page with a frown. "With some time. It appears to be the journal of a Sir Laurent Dubois, a Knight of the Temple of Solomon."

"Do you recognize the name?" Alex asked.

"Should I?" Derek responded, puzzled.

"I thought you might have heard it in your dreams about the Templars." Alex eyed her precept, wondering if he was holding something back, as he usually did.

"I thought only the clergy could read in medieval times." Nick asked, eyeing the text dubiously.

"For the most part that was true. It may be that he was destined for the church and so was taught to read and write before he joined the Templars. Alex, run a check on this name and see if anything in the Legacy's databases will tell us about him."

Derek began to try to decipher the entries to himself, shutting out the others as he lost himself in the journal's entries. Alex motioned Nick to follow her through the hologram and set to work tracking this new piece to their expanding puzzle. The mansion fell silent as the team set to work. Outside the full moon shone its pale light on the garden below.


	8. Chapter 8

Pt. 8

Translated from the journal of Sir Laurent Dubois

08 Avril 1291

The infidel has not breached our walls, though it is not for want of trying. The city of Acre and our castle stronghold still stands. Their siege machines have hurled enough rocks over our walls to build a new city. Their soldiers hurl insults as well as arrows in our direction. This existence is a far cry from what was planned for me, a younger son of a minor noble. My father would have given me to the church, had even had me instructed in reading and writing so that I might find a place in one of the great monasteries and thereby bring honor to our family. Yet here I am, a sword at my side, doing battle with the infidel.

Today our Grand master summoned me to his side from my place on the battlements. When I arrived I saw he was in deep conversation with two strangers, brother knights newly arrived through the auspices of our allies at sea. One was blond and light eyed, and he spoke with an accent similar to my own. The smaller man stood apart, his cowl pulled over his head and most of his face bandaged, from burns I was told. The one brother was introduced to me as Sir Damien de Lancie, the smaller man his brother Philip. Both seemed goodly enough young men. I was to show them where they would fight and where they would live. I am glad for the company, as so many of my brethren have fallen at the hands of infidels.

09 Avril 1291

My two new friends fight well, with a ferocity I have not seen in some time. I am not sure which of the two strikes more terror in the hearts of our adversaries, young Philip with his bandaged face and quiet speed or his fair brother, who happily sings battle songs in the midst of the fray. Yet when they are away from the wall, they are aloof men, keeping mostly to themselves. They speak to no one except the Grand Master. I sense he is uneasy in his heart about his two new recruits, that they even frighten him somewhat. I wonder what possesses them to become part of our order and come to Acre. They are not like the others here, too noble born to mix easily with our sergeants yet too cold to foster friendships among those of their own rank. There is a strangeness about them, something disquieting. They enjoy the battle too much.

10 Avril 1291

I have seen her. A woman like no other I have known. God help me, I have never felt in danger of forsaking my vows of chastity before, yet today I would have gladly have given up my soul for one more moment in her presence. I fear I have been bewitched.

The infidel had made yet another attack on the walls, trying to force us back from our positions. I could hear the cries of many of my fellow Templars as they fell at their posts. During a lull in the battle, I turned to see how the others fared. She appeared in the street, bending to help a sergeant at arms who had fallen under a barrage of stones. Where she came from, I do not know. She should not have been there. All the citizens of the city keep well away from the gates, trying frantically to find passage from our beleaguered city. Yet there she was, using her long sleeves to wipe away the blood from the injured man's eyes. She looked up at me with violet eyes, at once concerned and surprised. She was fair skinned and she wore red ribbons in her dark braids. Can a man lose his heart with only a look? Or was it only the heat of battle which fanned in me another sort of heat?

With a quick wave, she summoned a passing guardsman, into whose care she placed the injured man. Then she quickly made her way down the street, away from the carnage. I cannot explain, even now, what possessed me to follow her. To even be in her presence would be a violation of my oath. Yet nothing could have prevented me from seeing to what house she belonged. Yet it was not to be. HE appeared, my new brother at arms, and kept me back. I know not whether to bless him or curse him.

It had been a slow process, even with a Latin dictionary to help him over some of the more unfamiliar words. As he read he had noticed that there was something almost familiar about the manuscript, as though he had seen or held it before. Even the phrasing was familiar, as though he had heard those words somewhere before. Slowly, the story contained in these faded pages began to unfold. Derek closed his eyes and pondered the words in the journal. The light of the rising sun pouring through the windows reminded him just how long it had taken him to read just those few paragraphs. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins from the battle, the heat of the unending sun and the weight of the sword in his hand. The room seemed to dissolve around him and when he opened his eyes, he was on that dusty street looking across at a woman with violet eyes. She smiled at him and turned away, walking quickly down a crowded alley. He followed her, his armor heavy on his shoulders. Suddenly someone was in his path.

"That one is not for you, mon amie." Damien stood before him, his helm under his arm. The man's bright blue eyes gleamed with laughter. "Not yet, at any rate. She has other business to attend to, as do we. Come away, Laurent. Our brothers have need of us."

"Derek? Derek, can you hear me?" Alex walked up to her mentor and laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, startled by her sudden presence.

"What? Oh _ yes I'm fine." He looked down at the manuscript pages he had been reading, still dazed by his vision. "What did you want?"

"I found something on a minor noble family from the province of Navarre in France by the name of Dubois. There are some translations of chronicles written by a historian of the Templars about the fall of the city of Acre which mentions a Laurent Dubois in the list of Knights who were killed when the Moslems breached the city walls and forced the remaining Templars to retreat to their castle. The researcher who translated these histories also put together a list of all the Knights whose names appear in the chronology of the eventual fall of the Templar castle. I printed it out for you."

Derek took the printout from her hand and scanned it quickly. The names of Damien and Philip de Lancie were not on the list. "This isn't all the men who fell at the walls." He murmured , picking up the next page of the journal. "I wonder_ what happened to them?"

"To who?" Alex asked, confused.

Derek looked at her blankly then shrugged. "People named in this journal. I'll finish translating this later, but from what I've read, I can't see what connection this manuscript has to our attempted theft or the puzzle surrounding the Templar armor." He rose and gathered the rest of the pages together and walked out, leaving Alex to wonder just what had occurred while she was at her console. Her precept seemed so preoccupied with a manuscript he said was not part of their present investigation. And he seemed to have completely forgotten their unusual guests from the museum. Alex frowned and returned to her console, determined to learn just how all these stray threads connected together.


	9. Chapter 9

Pt. 9

The team met as a group in the study. Alex quickly brought the group up to speed on what she had found about the shipment of armour and the strange journal. She had also located Winston Raine's friend Maurice de Lacy at his family home in Paris. He had proven to be a source of surprising information.

"According to de Lacy, he had been on the verge of contacting your father to warn him about strangers posing as Legacy members coming into his House when he heard about your father's death. After the funeral, he made it a point to talk to the members of the house who were present and not one of them mentioned anyone new joining their team. So he assumed that the impostors had been warned off. Shortly after that he was injured in a hunt for a were-beast in Spain and retired from the Legacy." Alex looked at her assembled teammates with a frown. "Isn't it strange no one mentioned Daniel and Megan Solaris to him when he talked to the House?"

"Maybe my dad and the others didn't think of them as a threat." Nick commented, his eyes never leaving his precept's face.

"Or maybe my father was the only one who had direct contact with them." Derek responded, looking down at the snapshot of the strange pair in his hand.

"How did de Lacy know there were people posing as Legacy members coming to this house?" Rachel asked curiously.

"He had received a call from the precept of the Mother House in London, telling him that some friends of his had been assigned here. Problem was, De Lacy had never heard of these people. He told me that at the time he had the feeling that that his precept knew more about what was going on then he was willing to tell. But he never could verify that feeling."

"What about the journal?" Rachel asked. "Did you find anything useful there?"

"I've not gotten very far." Derek admitted wryly. "My father was right about my Latin being bad. But from what I've read, it appears to be a personal account of the last few days in the Templar stronghold of Acre, shortly before it fell to the Muslims."

"No mention of a special shield or suit of armour?" Alex queried.

"No, nothing like that. At least, not yet."

"So we're back to the square one. Who are these people and what do they want with the Templar armour." Nick remarked.

"Well, if you must know, we just want to make sure the secret carried in its links doesn't fall into the wrong hands." A voice from the doorway replied. Damien walked from the shadows, closing the doors behind him. He moved gracefully to stand in the fading sunlight gleaming through the windows behind Derek. "I do love the sunlight, don't you? It's so warm and bright. My sister likes the moonlight, but I've always had a taste for the sun."

Nick jumped to his feet, reaching for his gun. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, there are ways. This place was never as secure as Winston thought it was. No structure is totally impregnable, is it my old friend?" Damien laid a gentle hand on Derek's arm, turning the precept toward him.

"Old friend? Strange, I don't remember our being introduced." Derek replied coldly.

"We were comrades, even friends. But that was another lifetime ago. You'll remember when the time comes. But for now, you and your team must undertake a search for me. A search for a treasure long hidden from the world. A treasure which must not fall into evil hands."

"Whose hands?" Rachel asked.

"An enemy you have fought before. One who delights in resurrecting things which should have stayed dead. He and his family have searched for this treasure for generations. They have thought to use its power, to corrupt it for their own gain. I and my kind had thought it too safely hidden to be concerned with their puny attempts to locate it but now, with modern technology to aid him, all is changed. "

"Who is this enemy?" Rachel demanded tensely.

"Oh, come now – can't you guess? Someone who thought nothing of destroying a house and growing a demon in a petri dish."

"Arkady." Derek replied, tearing his eyes from the man in front of him. "But what is this treasure?"

Damien shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing terribly significant. Only the treasure of the Templars, the gold and precious jewels they acquired over years of their existence. And other items with less of a monetary and more of a symbolic value." He walked around the table to the door, his eyes never leaving the team in front of him. "You wouldn't think that a simple object would cause so much trouble, would you?" The doors behind him flew open and sudden light blinded the occupants of the room. When at last they could see again their strange visitor had disappeared.

Kat ran quickly down the stairs in front of her school, a puzzled frown on her face. Classes were technically not dismissed yet but her teacher had allowed her to leave the room to visit the nurse's office. Her minor illness of the day before still lingered yet it was not severe enough for her mother to consider keeping her home again. But she had sent Kat's antibiotics to the school nurse as a precaution and had instructed that her daughter be given her medication at the prescribed time. Kat had been on her way to receive her pills when she had caught sight of a familiar figure outside of the school.

"_I know I saw her out here_." Kat thought to herself, looking up and down the sidewalk with growing frustration.

"Here kitty Kat, here I am." A voice called from behind a tree. Marianne stepped out into the light with a smile. She was dressed in dark jeans and a white cotton shirt, with a dark overcoat slung over one arm. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, long and straight and fine as silk and her violet eyes looked down at the child with kindness. "How are you feeling this bright day?"

"Okay, I guess."

"That doesn't sound very positive." Marianne took the child's hand and led her to a shady spot under a large tree, out of sight of prying eyes. "What troubles you?"

Kat hesitated, looking back at the school with a frown. "I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it, especially to strangers."

"Well, I'm not exactly a stranger, am I? Let me see if I can guess." The dark-haired woman leaned back on her elbows and tilted her head up, examining the branches of the tree with a thoughtful gaze. "I'll bet it's got something to do with your gift of the Sight."

"The Sight?" Kat asked, hesitantly.

"The ability to see what others can not. Like seeing events before they happen or seeing people where everyone else sees empty space. Am I right?"

"Mom doesn't believe I can do that." Kat sighed, picking at string on her jacket.

"Oh, I think she believes you, little one. I just think she worries for you. Being different is a hard thing and I think she wants your life to be pleasant and easier than hers has been. Perhaps she believes that if she ignores this talent in you it will disappear, but it won't. At least, it didn't with me."

Kat looked at her new friend with interest. "You have this too?"

Marianne smiled sadly at the excited youngster. "Oh yes, since I was younger than you. I could look into a bowl of water and see things happening miles away as clear as if they were happening right in front of me. My grandmother was pleased I had the gift. I think she was afraid that the only talent I would have would be in war-craft."

"What's war-craft" Kat asked.

"The art of making war. My father had no son to leave his knowledge of battle to so he taught me, much to the horror of the rest of our family. My mother died when I was born. The old women of our village said that she had fairy blood in her. Can you imagine that? The Christian priests said my mother and grandmother were what was left of the descendants of the Sons of God and the Daughters of Man and so were dammed for all times. Luckily my father didn't believe in either the old gods or the new ones. I wonder what they would say of us now?" Marianne sat up quickly and looked back at the school. "I've confused you totally haven't I? Well, no matter. It appears that someone's looking for you, luv. Best you go on your way."

Kat stood up and eyed her new friend wistfully. "Will I get to see you again?"

"You never know. I tend to pop up in the most interesting places and at the most inconvenient times. Don't worry. If you need me, I'll be there. Now off with you." She shooed the child off towards the school then wandered towards a patch of fog that was forming near the end of the street. The mist grew thicker and colder as she walked into it, like a blanket of damp cotton pressing in all around her. Sounds came from the fog, soft whispering of conversations long ended which echoed forever in this corridor between worlds. She ignored the feeling of unease the fog emitted concentrating on her destination, a point of light just ahead of her. Soon the light burned away the dampness and chill and she stepped to her brother's side with a sigh. "Well, did you tell them?"

"Not in so many words, but I think they got the hint." Damien took her coat from her arm and placed it gently around her shoulders. "Why are you so interested in the child?"

"She reminds me of me at that age."

"You were never that innocent." Damien replied curtly, turning away to move down the suddenly brightly lit path.

"Wasn't I? Well, perhaps not. I was a warlords brat born to a woman branded a witch by even those who found her fair. A child with the power to see what had not yet been and make things happen that could not be done by mortal means. It's no wonder I was never like other children." Marianne followed her brother silently down the trail to where their horses were tethered. "How long will we be exiled from our people this time, my brother? How long before we me return to our home beyond the mists?"

"For as long as it takes to insure the safety of the item the Templars guarded for us. Then we will return beyond the veil again until the next time we are called. It will be no different than the other times, ma belle." Damien mounted his horse and rode into the mists without a backward glance.

Marianne watched him ride away onto the mystical trail his power created then reached into her saddlebag for the mirror she knew was there. Its wooden frame was decorated with symbols whose meanings were lost before time had begun. She held it up in the gray light of the fog and concentrated until its bright silver surface no longer reflected her image back to her. Clouds swirled on its face then slowly another image emerged, hidden away in a dark cave. A light glowed around the image, a light which seemed to come from the all around a hollow in the darkness. Then the image faded and another took its place, the image of two men, one young and anxious to be on the hunt and one older and more cautious, looking for advantage before committing his troops to the search yet in his own way as incautious as his young friend. "_The Warrior and the Mage_" she mused, looking closely at both of their handsome faces. "_Can you two protect what we children of Avalon can no longer care for alone_?" She sighed and wrapped the mirror back in its protective velvet the mounted her steed for the journey back to the world of mortal men.


	10. Chapter 10

pt. 10

Arkady stared impassively at the man across the desk, noting with detached interest as the sweat beaded on the man's brow. The frightened minion looked like a rat caught in a trap, an image not helped by the man's beady eyes and weak chin. "So the book has arrived at the Luna Foundation, has it? What about the armour?"

"It's been taken from its display case, Mr. Arkady. No one at the museum is talking, but it's almost a sure bet that the shield and chain-mail were sent to the island as well." Vincent McComb shifted nervously in his chair, frantically going over the details of his investigation in his mind. When Arkady had approached him to track down a shipment from the Middle East, McComb had been surprised. It had been flattering to think that a man of the wealth and position of Victor Arkady might need the services of a former Customs officer, especially one with a reputation as tarnished as McComb's. It had only been after he had reported that the Luna Foundation was in possession of the items that the real nature of his employer had come through. But by then it had been too late to back away, too late to do anything but try to comply with his new master's wishes.

"I don't suppose you have any contacts on Angel Island, do you Mr. McComb?" Arkady commented coldly.

"No sir, but I still have friends on the dock. I can find out if the people on the island come or go. Maybe I can cash in a few favors, get someone into the house who won't ask too many question_"

"That won't be necessary. I think that your services are no longer required, Mr. McComb. Please see my assistant on the way out of the building. She will see you are paid what you are owed." Akady turned away from his visitor, effectively ending the interview. McComb rose awkwardly and left as he had come in, trying not to break into a run as he reached the door.

Arkady waited until the relieved investigator had closed the door behind him, then tapped his intercom. Another man entered, absently brushing bits of lint from his coat. He was tall and lean, with cold eyes staring out of a acne-scarred face. The faint image of a scar was visible on his face, running from the corner of his right eye to his jaw. He glanced at his employer quizzically.

"Thomas, see to it that Mr. McComb gets everything that's coming to him." Arkady commanded, reaching for a file on his desk. "Oh, and Thomas_?"

"Yes sir?"

"Try to make it look like an accident this time. No sense in giving ourselves away too early in the game."

Thomas pulled a sleek stiletto blade from his jacket and gingerly tested its edge before sadly replacing it in it's sheath. "Yes, Mr. Arkady. What ever you say."

On Angel Island, the Legacy members were no further along in their investigation than when they had begun. Alex had taken the journal to scan its pages, reasoning that the computer could probably translate the book's Latin text faster than Derek. It had not been an easy argument to make. While Derek freely admitted his translating skills in Latin were not up to par, he had been surprisingly reluctant to relinquish the journal. Yet he had not been able to explain why it was so important that he read its entries. He had finally given in after Alex had agreed to allow him to see the translation as soon as it was completed. It had taken her the better part of the day, but the scanning portion of the task had finally been completed. Alex skimmed over the text as the computer began to print out its translation. She had randomly selected a few entries to run through the special program, arbitrarily selecting the last entries to translate first. The pages so far had made for interesting reading from a historical standpoint but had not as yet shed any light on the mysterious symbols on the armour and shield.

"Any luck?" Nick asked, walking past the hologram into the computer room.

"Not really. Mostly it's a journal of this particular Templar's life in Acre before the cities fall to the Muslims. Most of one section is just vignettes of life in the city during the siege. The last few days he seems to have developed this obsession with a woman he saw in the street and one of his fellow soldiers. He talks on and on about seeing this other man, Damien de Lancie, with this beautiful woman whose name he never mentions." Alex gently turned the journal's pages with gloved hands, her fingers gently touching the weathered parchment.

"Sounds like a major case of jealousy to me." Nick commented, skimming over the printed translation in front of him.

"I think it had as much to do with the culture of the Templars as with this particular man's obsession. I looked up a description of Templar life at the time and technically neither he nor his friend would have been allowed to be alone with a woman, not even their sisters or mothers. In their order, to have been alone with this woman, much less to speak to her, would have been a violation of their vows of chastity."

"You're kidding!" Nick replied, looking up at his friend in amazement.

"No, I'm serious. Many of the Templars held themselves to this very rigid code of conduct. Yet the author of this journal seems to have spent an inordinate amount of time looking for this woman and watching her and his fellow soldier. It's kind of strange, especially when you consider there was a large armed force just outside his gates trying to kill him and his order." Alex picked up the next page of the translation from the printer and read it carefully. "Oh, this is interesting!"

"What is?" Nick asked, taking the page from her hand.

"This entry was made three nights before the city fell. Laurent, that's the man writing the journal, was called to his commander's chamber for a special meeting. The summons comes from the Master of the order, who has also summoned several other young knights as well as men at arms."

"Does he say what it's about?"

"Yes. He gives a brief description of the event. Strange, there seems to be nothing else after that. It looks like this is the last entry in the journal. I wonder what happened after that meeting?"

Derek sat in the darkness, the photos Philip had taken of the old shield and armour held loosely in his hands. He stared at the symbols on both items intently, willing himself to see their pattern. But it was no use, nothing about the symbols from these grainy photos made any sense. He leaned his head back with a sigh and closed his eyes in fatigue. Suddenly, the vertigo which always preceded his visions struck, leaving him dazed. All around him, the sounds of the empty house changed. He could hear voices speaking in tongues not heard in centuries. Yet they were familiar somehow. He opened his eyes and looked around at the tableau in front of him. Men in battered leather and chain mail sat around a make-shift table, staring at something he could not see. Behind them, lined up against the wall, sergeants and men-at-arms, their faces weathered and worn clustered together nervously. On the far end of the table was a man whose face was hidden in the shadows of his cowl and bandages which covered him from cheek to chin. Beside him was a man in chain mail leaning exhaustedly against the table. The man looked up at him in desperation.

"Laurent? Did you hear me? We must move the armour tonight, lest those who traffic with the Devil find and solve its riddle."

Derek put out his hand to touch the bundle in front of him, seeing the links of chain mail a portion of a wooden shield uncovered before him. The hooded man leaned into the torch light, reaching out quickly to stop him. He grasped Derek's wrist in a firm grip then gently pushed him back. Derek looked up startled then gasped in surprise_

"Derek? Derek, are you all right?" Philip asked, gently shaking his friend awake.

"The eyes." Derek murmured, stunned. "The same eyes!"

"Whose eyes?" Philip replied, concerned.

"Violet eyes so deep you could drown in them. Why didn't I see it before? They have always been here, always guarded the secrets concealed by others." Derek looked up at the young priest with amazement. "Where are Alex and Nick?"

"In the lab. Derek, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I said I was fine." Derek replied, waving off his young friend impatiently. "I must get that journal back. Somewhere in its pages, there must be a record of a meeting held to discuss hiding the armour and shield which held this great secret, whatever it is. I must read those pages." He rose from his chair and started off down the hall, the worried priest in tow.

"So what does he say about the meeting?" Nick asked, taking each translated page from Alex's hand as she finished with it.

"Looks like the Templar's Master decided to send the armour and shield away from Acre during the height of the siege, to protect it from forces he was afraid of. Laurent doesn't say what these forces were, only that his fellow Templar's were afraid for their secret." Alex read through the entry in silence, her expressive eyes wide as she reached the end. "Nick, look at this! Also present at the meeting where the man that Laurent was so obsessed with, Damien de Lancie and his younger brother Philip." Alex read through the entries quickly, handing each page back to her partner as she finished. "Something he discovered about them that night left him shaken."

"Well, he was pretty hot about this de Lancie guy making time with this woman, whoever she was. From these earlier entries, doesn't look like he had a much better opinion of the younger brother. This entry Derek translated says the younger brother, Philip, wore bandages across his face to cover some sort of burns. Listen to this entry:" Nick began to read from the page before him, giving voice to words written in another time and place by a fellow soldier." Philip's injuries keep his face hidden from all save his brother. He fights at his brother's side always, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. No one of us has ever looked into his eyes, yet many have reason to be thankful of his skill with the bow. Many of the enemy have reason to curse his name. Yet still, I am uneasy in the presence of such a mystery in human form." He put the page back on the desk, a bemused look on his face. "This guy's almost as paranoid as I am. This Philip de Lancie probably just had a complex about being scarred for life. I mean, those burns were probably pretty bad. Maybe he just didn't want anyone to pity him for what had happened. I could understand that."

"But that was not the real reason his face was concealed." Derek said, walking through the holograph with Philip at his heels. "He was hiding a more important secret than the condition of his face."

"Which was?" Alex asked, glancing quizzically at Philip.

"I believe that Philip de Lancie was not Damien de Lancie's brother but his sister. A woman in the garb of a young nobleman, sent along with her brother to insure the survival of the clues imbedded in that armour and shield, clues to a treasure the Templars had found and spirited out of the Holy Land for safe keeping. But taken to where? That is the puzzle we must solve."

"Wait, Derek." Nick interrupted, his eyes reflecting the confusion felt by the others. "Isn't that a hell of an assumption to make, that just because some guy had his face hidden by bandages he wasn't really a guy at all?"

"Philip de Lancie had violet eyes, just like the woman that Laurent Dubois was obsessed with, the woman he saw with Damien de Lancie in the streets of Acre. There could not be two pairs of deep violet eyes in that God cursed city on that day."

"How do you know that?" Alex asked gently, laying a hand on her friend's arm. "There's no description of the man's eyes in any of these pages we've translated. How can you know they were the same as the woman in the street?"

Derek stared at his team in frustration. "I know what I saw!" he exclaimed, then stared down at the table in sudden confusion. "I saw_in my visions?" He saw the look of concern that passed between his friends and smiled ruefully. "That sounds quite mad, doesn't it?"

"You're not mad. A bit difficult sometimes, but definitely not mad." Philip replied, poking at the piles of papers on the table in front of him. He lifted one of the translated entries and read through it quickly. "Alex, Nick, look at this."

Alex took the page from his and scanned it's lines. "This is the rest of the entry from the night before the fall of the city. The computer hadn't finished translating this one when I read the first part. In it, Laurent Dubois talks about preparing a shipment of artifacts to be sent to his father's home in France in the care of his fellow Templars and of his shock to discover that one of his brothers at arms was in fact a woman!" Alex quickly shuffled through the rest of the pages, arranging them by date of entry. "Look here's another one. This entry is dated the day the city fell. I could have sworn that other entry was the last one in the book."

"No, that's not possible. I _he died at the walls of the city. He couldn't have made an entry in his journal on that day." Derek pulled on gloves and lifted the ancient text onto the table, carefully opening the tome to the last entry. "See, this handwriting is different from that which made the entries that came before it."

"What does the entry say?" Nick asked, leaning over the table to get a better look at the translation.

"The city has fallen, but the secret is safe. The keys to the puzzle sail onward to another shore and we remain behind to bury the dead. That which was hidden within the walls of the Temple of Solomon marches on to its new home and we remain to comfort the dying. Those of the old faith stand to protect those of the new. Soon it will be our time to return to the mists, to wait again for the time when we will be called to arms again, my Lord of Light and his Lady of the Moon. We will come again." Alex read the words aloud, feeling their magic as she spoke. Looking up, she could see that her friends were as intrigued by the simple phrases as she was. All, that is, except for Derek.

Derek felt the words flow through him like water, washing away the vestiges of confusion and anger. He could feel the vertigo that proceeded his vision yet was not troubled by it as he had been before. The walls of the mansion disappeared, melting into visions of bright sunlight, high walls and a desperate battle. He could feel a tremendous pain in his side and looking down, saw the bright blood flowing from a wound in his belly. A dead Saracen lay sprawled to one side of him, a sword impaling his body. Derek looked up to see a figure standing over him, a figure with deep violet eyes.

"Lay still, mon amie." Her voice came from everywhere at once, blocking out the sounds of the desperate struggles around him. "You are badly wounded."

"I am_ dying." He replied, reaching out a bloodied hand to the specter standing over him. "Who_?"

"My name has changed as has the world. But for now I am Marianne. I wish there could have been more time. Perhaps in another lifetime_" She gently pushed him back, removing his chain mail shirt and coif and covering him with his own cloak. None of the combatants who raged around them took the slightest notice of them, as though they existed apart from the world around them. The woman gently smoothed his hair back from his forehead, her fingers cool against his sun burnt skin. She brushed a kiss across him mouth and he was surrounded by the scent of wild roses. The pain receded as the darkness closed around him, yet he could still hear her voice, soft and sweet and very far away. "Another time, chevalier. The prize is safe. You and your brothers have saved it. If you remember nothing else in your next spin of the wheel, remember that. And remember me. I will always remember you. Nothing is forgotten. Nothing is ever forgotten."

"Derek?" Philip knelt beside his friend in concern. Derek's eyes were fixed on some distant point, seeing something no one else could see. They had all seen him have one of his precognitive visions before, but none could remember it overwhelming him as this was. Slowly, their precept's eyes focused on the young priest before him.

"Something was sent to his father, to Laurent Dubois's father, some artifact that the Templars were willing to guard with their lives. A secret they dared not write openly about for fear that others would steal it away from them. That is what we must find and protect from Arkady. Something that the Templars found in the Temple of Solomon when they first made their bed in Jerusalem." Derek looked across at Alex, trying to focus on the present and not the past. "Alex, find out what happened to the Dubois family holdings. I doubt that what we seek would still be in France, not after the arrests and destruction of the Templar order. But it's as good a place to start as any."

Arkady looked up as his employee entered the room. "Well, what did you find out?"

Thomas stopped in front of the desk and looked down at his employer. "A package was delivered to the Luna Foundation a few days ago. No one at the messenger service that delivered it could seem to remember where the package had come from originally. But it was about the size of a large book."

"So, the Legacy has found the journal, have they? Well, it won't take them long to translate it. Then they'll run off to secure the "item" and we'll be right behind them." Arkady smiled, a cruel cold smile that frightened even the hardened mercenary before him. "Soon, everything I've ever wanted will be mine and the irony will be that it will be the Legacy who provides it."


	11. Chapter 11

Pt. 11

Alex sat in front of her computer screen, her eyes scanning the data she had uncovered on the people mentioned in the manuscript. She hadn't expected to find much. Documents which dealt with the time period in which Laurent Dubois had lived simply weren't found in great abundance in the Legacy's data bases or on the Internet. There were a few references in histories written about the time which referenced older, primary sources but of course none of those sources were available for long-distance viewing. There had, however, been more information on the Net about the Templars than she had expected. Different Web sites had housed lists of references and whole articles about the elusive order which she had downloaded for later review. She frowned at the screen as yet another search on the Dubois family name came back empty.

"Any luck?" Nick asked, sliding into a chair beside his friend.

"Nothing. This family might have had land and titles but as far as history goes, they might as well have not existed. There is nothing in the references I can find in the computer to tell me what might have happened to them." She closed the link to the Legacy's databases with a sigh. "I'm afraid that the only way to know anything more about them is to go to France in person and look up the ancestral estate."

"It doesn't sound like you're looking forward to that!" Nick commented.

"You remember what happened the last time Derek sent me to France. I found a dead body in an alley in Paris. Last I heard, the Paris House still hadn't recovered from its brush with the Dark Side." Alex reached back and took a printout from the laser printer behind her and started to read the information again. "But maybe there is another way. I have a friend, Nancy Arthur, who's doing a semester in the Sorbonne, getting a Ph.D. in Art History. She's an amateur genealogist so maybe if I tell her what I'm looking for she can go the area where the family came from and look up some primary documentation for me."

"Think she'd do it?"

"Nancy loves historical puzzles, especially ones that deal with family histories. This kind of a search will be right up her alley." She quickly logged into the Legacy's email service and sent off a message to her friend.

Nick fired up his computer and began again to try to trace where the journal had been shipped from. So far, the delivery company had been less than helpful. All anyone could remember was that the package had appeared in their offices with the Luna Foundation's address on it. No one could remember where it had come from or when it had first arrived. Nick and Philip had looked over the brown paper the journal had been wrapped in but had found nothing to identify where the shipping office was located. It was beginning to frustrate the ex-SEAL that he couldn't find the answer to this puzzle. With both their tasks taking up most of their concentration neither research noticed the figure standing in the darkest corner of the computer room, watching and listening as they proceeded with their quest.

In another part of the house, Philip was giving the shield another look, hoping to find something he and Nick might have missed before. "You've kept your secrets well." He mused to himself, brushing a speck of dust off the face of the wooden shield.

"Too well, I'm afraid." A voice from behind him agreed.

Philip turned, startled, to look into a pair of brilliant violet eyes. "How did you_?"

"Get in here?" Marianne finished his statement with a slight laugh. She was dressed as she had been when she had first seen Kat, in a short white tunic with half-moon's hanging from her ears. Her long hair was bound up away from her face, and she carried a quiver of arrows and a bow with her. "I guess I forgot to give Winston back his key when we were here last. Now there was a man with a problem! But that's a story for another time. Have you guessed yet what you're looking for?"

"No." Philip replied slowly, inching his way towards the intercom on the wall. "Why don't you just tell me what it is we're supposed to find?"

Marianne smiled sadly. "That would take all the fun out of it, now wouldn't it? Look at me, priest. Look into my eyes and hear only my voice." Her eyes seemed to glow suddenly with an unearthly light. The young priest found he could not tear his gaze away from their overwhelming power. "I was never here, priest. You and I never spoke. Go on with your work. This never happened." She melted back into the shadows, leaving the man in front of her staring at the spot where she had stood.

Philip blinked suddenly and looked around him. "Now, what was it I was going to do?" He thought, looking up at the intercom. "I must be more tired than I thought. Well, just one more go at it and then I'll turn in." He turned back to the shield and began his search again.

Arkady slammed the book shut and tossed it across the room in frustration. He had read this particular account of the Templar's history dozens of times, yet it still infuriated him. The author of the little known tome was his ancestor, one of the first of the family to traffic in the Dark Arts. He had been a wily character, this ancient historian of evil. Somehow he had been managed to worm his way into the confidences of the King of France's Chief Inquisitor and so had been allowed to assist in the questioning of the Templar leaders after the Paris House had been taken. Yet despite his added "assistance" none of the men had broken. The secret they had sent from the Holy Land remained a secret despite all attempts at persuasion. It had only been by the sheerest luck that his ancestor had discovered the journal and had been able to trace its author to the family of Dubois. But by then, the old man had disappeared with the item in his charge, leaving behind his lands and wealth.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Arkady?" His secretary asked, peering furtively into the office.

"Did I call for you?" Arkady asked coldly, turning to stare out of the window.

"No sir, but I thought I heard_"

"Don't think, that's not what I pay you for. Has Thomas returned from his errand?"

"No sir, not yet. Shall I send him to you when he does?" The secretary slowly backup up, closing the door as she went.

"Yes, immediately." Arkady continued to stare at the skyline in front of him until he heard the click of the lock. Then he rose and retrieved the book he had been reading. He turned back to the section which spoke of the journal and smiled grimly. The volume had been one of the prizes of the family's collection of artifacts until recently. No one in his employ could say with any certainty when it had disappeared from the vault in which it had been kept. Nor could anyone tell him who had sent it to the Luna Foundation. "No matter." He thought, "This will turn out in my favor. Derek and his little group of do-gooders will finally solve the secret of the Templar's treasure, and then I will reap the benefit of their work. And I will finally have me revenge on Rayne and the Legacy." He sat basking in the glow of his evil thoughts.

As the mists curled around the Legacy House, the two figures which had been prowling its hidden corridors met in the garden, each carrying information for the other.

"Well, little sister?" Damien asked, moving to stand in the fading light of the setting sun. "What did you learn from the priest?"

"That they are no closer to finding their destination then they were when this game began." Marianne replied, leaning against the sturdy old tree which graced the garden's perimeter. She laid her small horn bow against the tree's trunk and released her silky hair from it's bindings. Damien watched in appreciation as the woman's hair fell like a gleaming cloak over her white tunic.

"You always did have such lovely tresses." He mused, shivering as the light began to dim. "I had better luck with the woman, Alex. She has a friend in Paris to whom she has given a task. The task ia to look up the Dubois family and perhaps find where they might have sought sanctuary when the trials began."

"That will take weeks!" Marianne replied crossly, pulling an shaft from her quiver and peering down its length, her bright eyes unaffected by the fading light. "We haven't that much time. Arkady may already be digging for the treasure. We should just go and fetch it back to Avalon."

"We can't little one. It doesn't belong to our world. All we can do is make sure that it's put in the care of those who will not abuse its power until the time of the coming. And Arkady isn't any closer to the sanctuary then these people are. If he were, we would know. But you're right about one thing. It will take weeks, maybe even months to trace the family of the Templar who carried the secret. We can take no direct action in this matter, but perhaps a little indirect action_?"

"You are so devious, my brother. I wonder where you acquired that trait?" 

"One picks up many talents over the millenniums, dearest." Damien replied with a laugh, his form slowly melting back into the shadows. Marianne gave the darkened house one final glance before she buried her arrow, head first, into the damp grass and strode off into the night, leaving her bow to be retrieved another day.

Alex walked into Derek's office the next evening, a frown on her face. "I've done as much of a search on the Dubois family is possible at long distance." She began, worriedly scanning her mentor's tired face. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"I'm fine." Derek replied, putting aside the translated version of the journal he had been reading. "What did you find out?"

"Laurent Dubois had an older brother who died while Laurent was in the Holy Land. His father Maurice survived both his sons by some years. The family fled France when the Templars were arrested because they were specifically targeted by the Crown. By order of the King they were to arrested because of charges that the Dubois were shielding the Order."

"Where did they go?" Nick asked, slipping quietly in to the office behind his partner.

"No one knows but there are rumors that many of the Templars took the order's treasure to Scotland. There have been stones found there that bear marks similar to those found in Templar castles. Maybe that's where they took whatever it was that they were protecting."

"The armour and the shield were the keys to that treasure?" Nick asked.

"Part of the key." Philip answered, entering the office with a ledger in his hands. "There is still one more piece to the puzzle missing. The message encrypted into the shield and armour seems to be directions to a place, a vault of some sort, but there is no clue as to what was in the vault. There have always been legends about what the Templars found in the Temple of Solomon when they took it for their headquarters in the Holy Land. Some of those legends formed the basis for the charges of witchcraft that were leveled against them later by the King of France." Philip rubbed his tired eyes, then retrieved his notes. "Pity we don't know what this important item was."

"But we do know." Derek replied calmly.

Nick stared at his Precept in surprise. "What do you mean_?" he began, than stopped and looked at the pages of translated notes in front of him.

"The Templars were housed in what was the Temple of Solomon." Derek replied, his eyes fixed Nick. "Somewhere in it's depths they found a relic, an item so important to their faith they were willing to die to a man to protect its secret. I suspect that some of them went even further. They had been exposed to knowledge of arcane arts in the Middle East that they had never experience before. Manuscripts and wisdom that had been protected and added on to for ages was suddenly there for those among them who had the desire to study. When the battles began to go against them, when the Templar leadership began to see that their cause was lost, I think they used that arcane knowledge to call ancient spirits from the mists of time to aid them in guarding the one thing that they would have gladly given all their wealth and power to protect."

"You're thinking of the Legend of the Grail." Philip commented.

"I thought that the link between the Templars and the Grail was only a literary one, from the story "Parzival" by von Eschenbach." Alex replied. She looked up and smiled at the startled look on her Precept's face. "I decided to do some basic research on the Templars while I was waiting for the computer to finish it's search on the Dubois family. It mentioned that author and the story in one of my reference books."

"Very good Alex." Derek replied. "But many such legends have a basis in fact."

"The Grail?" Nick asked, doubt creeping into his voice. "This I'd have to see to believe."

"Is it so much easier to believe in the growing of a demon from a bit of horn than to believe that the cup of Christ exists?" Derek asked quietly.

"You know that was different, Derek." Nick replied stubbornly.

"Why was it different?" Derek asked, leaning across the desk to stare at his young friend.

"Because the damn thing was standing right in front of me, that's why. I could see it. Hell, I could even smell it. It was real."

"The cup may be as well." Philip commented, moving to stand beside the desk. "Can you image what forces, what power it might grant whoever possess it?"

"There is also the possibility that the treasure this family was guarding was more earthly in nature." Alex interjected, looking down at her notes. "According to the web site I scanned while looking up information on the Templars, the Treasurer of the Order disappeared with many of their ships and the order's coffers before the King was able to seize the main house in Paris. No one has ever been able to account for the fortune that once belonged to the Templars, although there have been the occasional stories of priests in small French towns digging up vast sums in their church's basements. Arkady wouldn't turn his nose up at profiting from the recovery of such lost treasure."

"So what's our next move?" Nick asked impatiently. "Do we go to France or Scotland or what?"

A muffled knock on the door interrupted the debate before it could begin. Dominick, the house's ever watchful butler, entered and handed Alex a message then move quietly out, whisking a discarded drinking glass out of the room with him.

"What's that?" Nick asked, quizzically.

"Remember I told you I was going to ask my friend at the Sorbonne to check on the history of the Dubois family for me? Most of what I needed to search that would pertain to them wouldn't be in material available to the computer. I didn't expect to get a reply so soon." She read through the short note. "This is strange. My friend says that papers dealing with the Dubois family showed up on her doorstep hours after she read my message. She's not sure if the documents are genuine or not, but that much of what I told her was in the computer was verified by these pages. According to what was in those documents, the family packed up what they could carry and moved to Spain, where the order was not persecuted and had changed its name to the Knights of Christ. There is mention of a little town named "Las Rosales", where an old church is supposed to have certain symbols painted on graves in its cemetery that have been linked to the Templars." Alex quickly ran a search on the computer, locating information on the city in question. "It appears to be a rather remote village in northern Spain, near the border with France. Nothing but mountains, caves and sheep from that I can tell from this description. Why would they have taken the treasure there?"

"Many Templar churches in Spain were built beside deep caverns. Perhaps that's why Dubois chose this place, out of all the area the Templars controlled, to take prize." Derek's eyes quickly scanned the information Alex had called up, paying particular attention to the geographical description included in the article.

"This smells like a trap." Nick stated, his body suddenly tense.

"How would anyone known that I had asked my friend for help?" Alex asked practically, handing the faxed pages to Nick.

"Maybe our mysterious friends have been watching us again. I have a feeling they have their own agenda that we're just being used to complete."

"Or maybe they are just as anxious for Arkady not to find this treasure as we are." Philip suggested, playing Devil's advocate.

"So do we go and check out this church or do we continue to do more research?" Nick snapped impatiently, annoyed with the young priest's peaceful viewpoint.

"We go to Las Rosales." Derek answered decisively. "Nick, get the helicopter ready. We'll take a Legacy jet to Spain and hire a car to take us to the village. Alex, call Rachel and tell her where we'll be going. Kat's been ill so I doubt she'll be able to go with us." The group quickly scattered to their respective rooms, packing swiftly for their unexpected trip. Nick logged into the Legacy network and quickly called up a jet to take their group across the ocean. It would take a few hours to get it from its hanger in Toronto to San Francisco and get it ready for its long trip. But at least they wouldn't have to be at the beck and call of the commercial airlines. He called the private airport the Legacy used to board its various aircraft and made the necessary preparations for the arriving jet.

"Yes, Mr. Boyle. We'll have the jet ready for you as soon as possible." Jeff Armstrong replied, making notes on the pad in front of him. The call to refuel the incoming flight had caught him just as he was preparing to leave for the evening. He hung up the phone and reviewed the set of instructions he would be leaving the next shift. The plane probably wouldn't get here for another few hours and by then he expected to be sound asleep in his comfortable bed.

"There a problem, boss?" Jimmy Taylor asked, wiping his filthy hands on an equally filthy cloth.

"No, just a plane coming in that needs a quick turn around. Whole nine yards, checkout and refueling, that sort of thing. Looks like some people from up at the Luna Foundation are making a trip to Spain."

"Lucky them." Jimmy tossed the greasy cloth in the nearest trash bin then walked out side towards the parking lot. Just around the corner, and out of sight of the office, was a pay phone. He quickly dialed the number that his old friend McComb had given him, hoping the old man hadn't been exaggerating his employers generosity.

Arkady's assassin Thomas laid the receiver back on its cradle, a cold smile on his face. His employer would be very interested to hear that someone from the Luna Foundation was making a trip abroad. He hummed to himself as he made the call, absently making note of the name of the man who had provided the information. He wondered if anyone would notice another accidental death by drowning.


	12. Chapter 12

Pt. 12

Derek and Nick arrived at the airport early, each anxious to begin their journey. Alex had received a phone call from her friend in Paris and had indicated she would join them before they left. Philip had elected to wait for Alex, using the time to make arrangements with his Diocese to cover his duties while he was gone. Once at the airport, Nick quickly began a check with the plane's crew of the craft's operations. Derek walked to the end of the private runway, trying to clear his thoughts in preparation for the search.

"I do so love the night." A woman's voice floated out of the darkness just past the runway lights. Marianne stepped from the shadows, her long coat brushing the ground behind her. Everything about her was shadows, from her dark pants and boots to her black silk shirt. Only her violet eyes seemed to shine out of the darkness, piercing him with their intensity. "So, you begin a quest, chevalier? Where does your journey take you this night?"

"I think you know as well as I where we will go." Derek replied, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"Spain is pretty this time of year. Or so I have been told." She walked up to him and reached up to run her fingers through his wavy hair. "What a lovely thing you are, chevalier. You could almost make me forget my vows. But then, I never could make you forget yours, could I? How many times in that long ago place, in that forgotten past did I wish to save you from your human fate, to keep you for myself. But your vows to your Order, to your brothers were too strong. So all I could do was watch you die." Marianne leaned across the small space which divided them and kissed his mouth, enjoying his reaction to her boldness as much as the action itself. She felt his hands on her waist, steadying them both as he responded to her caress. Around them, the mists rose from the darkness, covering them from the view of the others on the landing field. The music of the night birds and the wind singing in the trees filled the empty space around them, flowing over and around them like a wave.

Derek broke from the embrace first, pulling away enough to see her face. "I remember that time and that place. Am I that man, that Knight who died in the streets with you at his side?" He ran his fingers along her cheek, touched by the sadness in her eyes.

"Does it matter?" she asked softly, her breath warm against his face. "Your journey this day will take you to peril as great as that which you witnessed as the Templar Knight. It maybe that History will repeat itself yet again and you will be called upon to lay your life down for your brethren or for your faith. Even now, an evil minion of the creature called Arkady waits to follow you to your goal and strike you down for his master. There is danger all around you, chevalier, and I can not interfere with your destiny unless you let me."

"How?" he asked, frowning.

"Take this." She removed a silver chain from around her neck. The pendant was in the shape of an arrow, so perfectly formed that Derek could almost swear he could see the feathers move in the breeze. "Wear this around your neck. It will be a beacon to me. With this I will always be able to find you, no matter what darkness covers you, no matter what evil surrounds you. Call on me and I will come."

Derek slid the chain around his neck, shivering at the touch of the cool metal against his skin. Somewhere far in the distance, he could hear a familiar voice calling his name, yet he was loathe to answer. Marianne smiled and gently pushed him away, backing in to the swirling mists. As he watched, her figure seemed to blend with the fog, becoming indistinct from the darkness until there was nothing left of her before him but her perfume on his fingers and the taste of her kiss on his lips.

"Derek, didn't you hear me? Alex and Philip just got here. We've got to go." Nick called out, walking swiftly to his friend's side. He had been calling his precept's name for several minutes and not getting a reply. When he saw him standing on the edge of the runway he had assumed that the older man was in the throes of another vision but now he wasn't so sure. Derek didn't have that unfocused look that usually came with his visions. "You okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Nick, has our flight plan been filed already?"

"Yes, why?"

"We'll have to change it on route. Arkady knows that we're going to Spain. We have to try to buy ourselves some time before he decides to move in on us." Derek looked back at the edge of the airfield, his eyes scanning the receding mists with an unfathomable look. Then he turned and moved quickly back to the aircraft, his stunned cohort in tow.

"That wasn't wise, little sister." Damien commented grimly, moving to where his sister stood in the edge of the mystical path.

"Perhaps not." Marianne replied, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. "But the last time you gave me no time to save him. This time I must at least try."

"We may not interfere. We may poke and prod them on to the right path but in the end the battle is theirs and theirs alone." He turned and began to walk back along the misty path, then turned and looked back at his warrior sister. "Come." He commanded, holding out his hand. She turned and stared inscrutably back at him then preceded him up the path, ignoring his outstretched arm. He sighed in mock irritation then followed her into the mists, mentally preparing for the hunt that was to come.


	13. Chapter 13

Pt. 13

Once the journey was underway, each member of the team settled in to prepare for the search in their own way. Alex and Philip huddled in the back with a laptop and various research books the young priest had insisted on bringing with him. Their whispered conversations made no impact on Derek, who sat alone in his seat, lost in thought. His fingers twined around the pendant at his neck, reminding him of the conversation at the airfield. Nick, who had begun the journey in the cockpit, finally wandered out and assessed the situation. In his opinion, everyone was being entirely too quiet.

"So, Philip, tell me about the Grail. What's so special about it that Arkady would be interested in getting his grubby hands on it?"

"Legend has it that it's the cup which Christ used at the Last Supper, right?" Alex replied, looking up at the young priest.

"That's one of the legends. Some people say it has no physical substance at all, that it's merely a metaphor for a relationship with the divine. Others say that it is a cup which Joseph of Arimathea used to collect the blood of Christ after the crucifixion. It supposedly has great power such as healing and restorative ability and the ability to bestow immortality to the person in possession of the cup. Some say it can give the possessor of the cup the ability to communicate with God or to have knowledge of god. It's supposed to be invisible to evil or unworthy eyes and have the ability to it those that are deemed worthy of God's grace. There are even those who say the Grail legend goes back even further than that, to the time of the Celts. Some Welsh poems even speak of cauldrons which have much the same gifts that the Grail is supposed to posses."

"So we are looking for a cup, maybe, or a cauldron with the ability to heal, grant immorality and great knowledge?" Nick asked skeptically.

"But I thought I read that the Grail was supposedly buried somewhere in England?" Alex reached for one of Philip's books and flipped to a page marked with a strip of paper. "Yes, this is what I read. The most well known of the legends dealing with Joseph of Arimathea that Joseph and his sister and her husband left Jerusalem and sailed to France. Joseph left his sister and his brother-in-law and sailed to England

where he set up the first Christian church at Glastonbury. Most stories tell of him hiding the Cup somewhere near by. The church at Glastonbury is still associated with the Grail legends to this day."

"If you were trying to hide something valuable, wouldn't you encourage all manner of false stories about its whereabouts? People would be looking for your treasure in every spot except the one you actually buried it in." Philip leaned across his seat and took back the book from Alex. "What ever the truth is, Arkady believes that this item will give him great power. And he must believe that the Templars had this treasure at one time or he wouldn't be interested in trying to find it"

"We only have our mysterious visitors word for the fact that Arkady has any interest in this item at all." Nick reminded his friends, looking to see what effect his words would have on Derek.

"He would want it even if it didn't grant him immortality or great knowledge." Derek mused, staring out of the darkened windows. "It would please him no end to destroy an icon of faith." He closed his eyes tiredly, his hand absently playing with the arrow pendent around his neck. The others watched quietly as their exhausted leader slipped quietly into a deep sleep then moved to settle themselves in for the long flight ahead.

Arkady's hired killer smiled grimly as he sat in the private jet bound for Spain. The boy at the airfield had given him excellent information as to the flight plans of the Legacy jet. It had almost been a shame to kill him. But his employer didn't like complications, and considering what he had planned for the people in that other jet, it was the only solution available. The kid hadn't even seen it coming. He had been so intent on counting his reward that he hadn't felt the killer slip behind him and touch him with strong and skilled hands. He had been unconscious before he had even hit the ground. The police would find the boy in his locked garage with a hose leading from his exhaust pipe to the interior of his car and a Dear John letter in his lap. They would, incorrectly, assume that it had been a suicide. It had taken a little time to get all the details right but it had been worth it. No one could trace him to the unfortunate man. It was all very neat and clean.

"Neat, perhaps, but not very clean." A voice commented from the aft section of the plane. Thomas whipped around, gun in hand, to see a fine mist forming where there had been nothing but empty seats before. A man emerged from the mist, wearing a leather jacket and cradling a sword in his hands. The smile on his face was almost as cold as the gleaming metal of his weapon. "Hello, mate. Bet you're wondering who I am, aren't you?"

"How did you get on this plane?" he growled, his weapon aimed squarely at his adversary's chest.

"Security is rotten, dear boy. My sister could explain a few things to your Mr. Arkady about how to guard his crafts but I doubt she has any interest in doing so. She doesn't much like your employer. Can't think why, I find him highly amusing myself. So predictable. He sends a dog to do a man's job. Well, we can't have that, can we?" A glow suddenly seem to envelope the man, surrounding him with light and heat. The smoke alarms in the cabin began their piercing whistle as the seats behind the intruder suddenly caught fire, enveloped by the heat rolling from his body. Thomas coolly lined up his shot and squeezed off a round, catching the man squarely in the chest. To his horror, nothing happened seemed to happen. Nothing except the more heat seemed to roll of the figure in front of him, melting plastic seat covers and eating up the available oxygen in the cabin. Thomas choked as he backed up, reaching for the oxygen mask which had fallen from the ceiling, only to recoil as the mask melted in his hands. He tried to scream as his flesh began to burn, blisters forming along his exposed arms. The plane began to buck in turbulence, seemingly seized by a giant hand. Thomas fell, his chest heaving as the heat robbed him of the air his lungs demanded. The last sight the mercenary would ever see before the darkness claimed him was the blue eyes of this angel of death, looking down at him with amusement.

"Couldn't you have just cut the man's head off?" Marianne's voice floated out of the shadows as the woman appeared beside her brother. Around her, the cabin's interior settled back to its undamaged state, showing no sign of the conflagration that hand threatened to engulf it. The prone figure of the dead killer at their feet was the only sign that anything untoward had occurred in the aircraft. The dead man's skin was still smoking, giving off the foul odor of cooking flesh. She kicked it over on its back roughly, then looked back up at her companion. "You've been shot, by the way."

"Wouldn't have been as amusing." Damien replied with a smile. "You do want Arkady to make a personal appearance at this hunt, don't you? What better way to issue the invitation than to present him with his minion dead by mysterious causes before he ever gets to Spain?" He looked down at the powder burns on his silk shirt with a frown. "Damn, that was my favorite shirt!"

"You always make things too complicated." Marianne sighed, frowning down at the body. "Well, at least Derek and his group will have some time to make their search before Arkady catches up with them." She bent down and tucked the dead man's gun back in its holster, noticing the other weapons he had secreted upon his person. "I thought we weren't supposed to interfere."

"This isn't interference." Damien protested. "This is just leveling the playing field. That soldier your knight errant has with him might be good, but even the best of fighters can be taken out of the game by a blow from behind. This way, all the players are out in the open and know each others faces. Makes it much more interesting this way." He started back into the aft of the ship, the mist again forming around him. "Coming?"

"I suppose so." She replied, looking around to make sure there was nothing else that needed to be put back in its place. Then she rose and stretched, like a cat just awakening from a nap. "I'll be glad when the final portion of this hunt begins." She mused, following her brother into the darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

Pt. 14

Arkady slammed the phone back into its cradle in a fury. His little excursion was not turning out as he had planned. First his flight had been delayed at the airport in Madrid by a demonstration by Basque separatists. He had finally made it to his hotel, only to discover his room had been inexplicably given to someone else by the computer system. It had taken an hour before he could finally move into a suite smaller than he was accustomed to occupying. He hadn't been there more than a few minutes when one of his minions in Boston had called to inform him of Thomas's death. The plane his assassin had chartered had experienced unforeseen technical problems in mid-flight and had been forced to land at a small airfield just outside the city. It was then that the pilot had noticed the odd smell coming from the rear compartment and had discovered their passenger dead from smoke inhalation. His skin had been blistered as though he had been caught in a raging fire, yet nothing in the cabin was disturbed. Arkady's employee had called him for instructions as to the disposal of the body and how he wanted the local authorities handled. The police, it seemed, were insisting they had questions for him concerning his deceased employee, who was found to be carrying a number of unregistered weapons. They were becoming insistent in knowing who might have wanted him dead.

"Lucky for him he died. I would have shot him myself for making such a mess of a simple assignment." Arkady fumed, angrily reading through the various messages the hotel's front desk had given him. Anger was a feeling he dealt with well. It kept him from having to confront the fear lurking in the depths of his blighted soul. Fear of what might have burned an experienced killer and left the plane in tact. Fear of who or what else might be searching for the prize he was tracking. He didn't give a second thought to the Legacy team which had gone before him, knowing that their reverence for life would have precluded their having a hand in his man's demise. One message caught his eye, jerking him out his self-absorption. It was a brief message asking he call a local number as soon as he arrived. It was unsigned, but Arkady had his suspicions as to its author. He had recently acquired a spy in the Madrid House, Manuel Diaz. It hadn't seemed much of an acquisition at the time, but Arkady was nothing if not patient. Now his patience was bearing fruit. He had called the renegade Legacy member before boarding his flight, giving the man a list of instructions he was to have accomplished by the time his employer had arrived. This message to inform the man's employer that the job had been performed and the information required had been found. Arkady pulled the phone back and dialed the number quickly, his jaw set in a grim smile.

"Bueno?" the voice at the other end of the receiver called out hesitantly.

"It's me, where do we meet?" Arkady asked, impatiently.

"At the Museao del Pardo, Senor. In one hour. Come alone and bring my money."

"Not getting cold feet are we Manuel?" Arkady's voice dripped with sarcasm as he imagined the nervous man on the other end of the phone.

"One hour, senior. Or I will take my information to my Precept and throw myself on his mercy." A sharp click and the hum in the receiver signified the conversation was ended.

Arkady dropped the phone in disgust and grabbed his coat from the bed. "It will be a pleasure to relieve this toad of his life." He thought, closing the suite door behind him and striding off toward the elevators.

On the street below his window, a nervous young man carrying a manila envelope walked swiftly away from a phone booth, warily watching the masses of people around him. Manuel Diaz had been a soldier, a teacher and a researcher in his short life. He had even been a trusted representative of his House at numerous Legacy gatherings, standing in for his busy Precept. But this was the first time he had ever been a traitor and he was discovering that deceit was not his strong suit. It hadn't seemed so bad at first, just performing some outside research assignments for the rich American using his House's resources. His family had needed the funds to pay for some unexpected medical bills and his position at the Legacy, while trusted, had not been the means to financial success. Most of the topics had been historical, not supernatural so he had not suspected what the man had really been after until it was too late. Too late to give back the large sum of money he had spent on himself and his family. Too late to apologize to the members of his house who were injured by his lapse in judgment. Now he was left with the vain hope that this would be the last job the American would require of him, the last time he would take the man's blood money in exchange for help against his own people. His guilty conscience made him especially paranoid, seeing shadows following him up every street. Yet for all his watchfulness, he did not notice the small figure that followed him at a distance, keeping pace with him through all the twists and turns of the city's back alleys. Even if he had noticed, it would not have mattered.

The stealthy black feline followed its prey almost to the steps of the Prada, stopping only when the crowds became too dense for its small frame to avoid. It took up a post in an alley nearby, crouched in the shadows, watching the masses of humans as they moved in and out of the ancient museum, watching everything that occurred. Watching the world with thoughtful violet eyes. Watching until a shadowy figure moved to enter the famous museum from a little used service entrance. Then it leaped gracefully to its feet and disappeared into the crowd at the entrance.

Inside the Prada, Diaz found a secluded corner facing the entrance and waited. Time seemed to drag on eternally. The package in his hands seemed to grow heavier with every passing minute.

"Waiting for someone?" a sarcastic voice asked from somewhere behind him.

Manuel whirled around to face Arkady, who had decided to slip in through the museum service entrance. "When did you get here?" he gasped, his face pale and sweaty.

'Not important. Do you have the information I requested?"

"Si Senor. Dr. Rayne called my Precept and requested the House's help in finding a small town called Las Rosales. I have copies of everything my Precept will give to them when they arrive. It is said that the churchyard in the town has gravestones decorated with the symbols of the Knights of Christ, the ones that were once known as the Templars. One of the members of the House had sketched the symbols a few years ago while visiting a relative. He also found set of blueprints for the church from when it was renovated, about the time of the end of the Franco regime." He shifted the envelope in his hands, debating his next move. "Do you have my money?"

Arkady pulled an envelope from his jacket and tossed it to the nervous man. "It's all there, just as I promised."

Miguel briefly glanced into the envelope, noting the bills were American currency and not Spanish. He handed his envelope to his benefactor quickly, stuffing the money in his pocket. "Our business is concluded, Senior. As we agreed, this is the last time we will ever speak to one another."

"What, no handshake to seal the deal?" Arkady drawled, putting his gloved hand out in a friendly fashion.

Miguel hesitated briefly, then reached for the other man's hand. Arkady swiftly pulled the man close, burying the switchblade he had palmed into the man's defenseless back. Shock rendered the turncoat speechless, his limbs suddenly useless as the blade buried itself in his heart. To the passing museum guard, it seemed that the two men were sharing a common greeting, an abrazo between two old friends. Only Arkady could hear the rattling sound which signaled the impending death of his hapless pawn. He quickly dragged the injured man into a dark corner, dropping the still form behind a tapestry. He wiped his hand on his victim's jacket, then fished the money back out of his pocket.

"No sense leaving this behind." He said to the dead man. "You're not going to need it." He tucked the envelope under his arm and walked calmly out the main entrance, his mind quickly reviewing his plans to beat the Legacy members to their shared goal.

He was so intent on those plans that he did not notice the dark-haired young woman who brushed past him in the crowd, gently jostling him as the throng of people moved impatiently through the entrance. Nor did he notice as she lifted the envelope containing his bribe from his pocket and transferred it to her own. Marianne smiled secretly to herself as she moved toward where she had last seen her quarry. It had been too easy to 'liberate' Arkady from his money, just as it had been too easy to kill his man on the plane. Now she must find this man who was willing to trade his secrets for currency and see if her suspicions about the outcome of the meeting were true. She continued across the museum, slowly making her way the far corner where the ill-fated meeting had taken place. She stopped suddenly, the scents in that almost deserted corner of the building overwhelming her. The blood scent, imperceptible to others, flowed over her in a wave, reminding her of other times, other places. She could almost hear the hounds baying in the distance and feel the rush in her veins as the prey beast was brought down. She followed the scent to the tapestry and the cooling body of the traitorous Legacy member. Marianne sighed in frustration, wishing for once she had been wrong about the ultimate fate of this foolish human. 

"It was his fate to die for his treachery, little sister." Damien's voice floated out of the shadows of her mind. "Leave him to be mourned by his own kind. He is not worthy of your regrets."

"Perhaps not." She admitted ruefully, bending to tuck the cash into his inside pocket. "But he was not so very bad as to deserve this. At least his family will not suffer for his mistakes. Not with Arkady's money to help them through the hard times to come." Her violet eyes flashed with repressed anger as she looked back in the direction she had last seen Arkady. "Now that one, on the other hand, deserves to serve me as prey for my hunt."

"Perhaps you will have that chance later." Damien admonished, his voice growing indistinct. "But for now, all the players are on their way to the final confrontation. Go now and see to your pets."

"Where will you be?" she asked fretfully, moving swiftly out of the open service entrance.

"I will be at your back, sister. Look for me in the sun's bright rays and I will look for you in the Moon's deep shadows."

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound reverberating with more volume than it should have, as minute fragments of dust fell on the upturned face of the dead man.


	15. Chapter 15

pt. 15

Derek watched the Spanish countryside roll by his window in silence. The team had been met at Barajas airport by a member of the Madrid House "Jesus Montoya at your services senors y senorita. I will be your guide through my city until it is time for you to move on." The driver, a wizened man with shining dark eyes had set about to collect their luggage and hurry them to his car, a huge stretch limousine.

"So much for not attracting attention." Nick muttered darkly as he crawled in between Derek and Alex. Philip chose the seat opposite the driver, the better to pump the elderly man for information about his House. Derek had settled into his seat and promptly shut out the world, his mind focused on his search. The eight hour difference San Francisco and Madrid would eventually take its toll on both him and the members of his team. But for now, the others were being carried along by the adrenaline surge. He, on the other hand, was only feeling old and tired. The thought of finding the very cup of Christ both intrigued and frightened him. The possibilities of the Grail's power in wrong hands terrified him. The possibilities of its power in his hands scared him even more. He remembered the look in his father's eyes when he had found that sepulcher, the night Winston had died. In his heart, he believed that his father had begun his search for stone caskets with all the best of intentions. But he also knew, from painful experience, that the lure of power could sometimes overwhelm even the best of men.

"Earth to Derek." Alex teased, leaning across Nick in the car's back seat. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Sorry. I must be more tired than I thought." Derek replied absently, not looking back at his friends. "What did you say?"

"I was just wondering about the Precept of the Madrid House. What's he like?"

"Senor de la Vega has been with the Madrid house for many years. I believe he came to it during Franco's regime and has managed to stay connected through his families influence with both the old and new powers. He has collected some of the rarest of tomes dealing with time of the Inquisition. He also has collected some fine Arabic volumes of poetry, medicine and other such subjects. It's possible that somewhere in that fine collection he may have some more information about the town we will be visiting and how the remnants of the Templar Knights came to set up a base there."

"How did you know that Arkady knew our flight plan?" Nick asked, his eyes darting between the Alex and Derek. "You never said how you figured that out."

"She told me he was waiting to follow us to our goal."

"She? You mean that woman, Marianne? The same one who's brother just waltzed in to the house and told us about Arkady's interest in our puzzle?" Nick fidgeted in his seat, wishing he had not had to stow his gun before they had landed. "Why do I get the feeling that those two have a separate agenda from ours?"

"They mean us no harm." Derek replied shortly, his eyes locked on his young friend.

"So they say." Nick replied, determined not to be dismissed. "Alex, Philip and I looked at those pictures you had her dig up, the photos of the various brother and sister teams that have been associated with the Legacy over the years. These two "people" have been showing up again and again at Legacy houses for at least a hundred years Derek, maybe more! If it's the same two people, then they can't be human. And if they are not human then we can't assume that human motivations, as Rachel would say, apply to anything they do. For all we know, they could be working with the forces of darkness, setting us up to take the fall with Arkady while they make off with the cup."

"Perhaps Senor de la Vega will have more information on our guests as well in that extensive collection of his." Philip interjected, hoping to distract both Derek and Nick from what promised to be a nasty fight.

"Perhaps." Derek agreed grudgingly, looking pointedly back out of the car window. The rest of the trip was accomplished in dead silence, each of the team member's wrapped in his own thoughts and concerns.

The Madrid House was a splendid mansion on the outskirts of the city, showing various styles of architecture as well as hiding the best of modern day security. To the local's it was the home of a nonprofit organization which devoted itself to the preservation of the nation's artistic history. Only other legacy members knew that behind the beautiful walls were some of the oldest tomes in the Legacy's collection of information about the world of darkness. Senor Efraim de la Vega, the fifth generation of his family to serve the Legacy, watched his driver bring his visitor's from American through the drive with concern. The information he had just received from the Boston House would make their search that much more complicated.

"Buenos dias, Derek. It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of speaking to you." De la Vega approached his guests, a smile on his handsome face. Efraim de la Vega was a little taller than Derek, ramrod straight posture, tanned complexion, and wavy gray hair. To Alex, he looked remarkably like Ricardo Montalban, even to his slight accent as he greeted them in English.

"Yes, not since I graduated from Oxford." Derek replied, a smile on his tired face. "Senor de la Vega was one of my instructors. Let me introduce you to the other members of my House. This Alex Moreau, our researcher, Father Philip Callahan and Nick Boyle who acts as my security chief."

"Please, call me Efraim. Not even the members of my House call me Senor de la Vega. Derek, I have received news which may bear on your quest. A plane belonging to Victor Arkady was forced to make an emergency landing in Boston. On board were the charred remains of one of Arkady's employees, a man by the name of Thomas. A hired killer with little regard for anything or anyone but himself and his employer. He had become the victim of spontaneous combustion."

"Spontaneous combustion?" Nick snorted, hefting his bag over his shoulder. "What, he just went up in flames?"

"Yes, exactly." Efraim agreed, graciously leading them into the main hall. "Nothing else in the plane was damaged but this man."

"Derek, do you think_" Alex began, darting a quick look at Nick and Philip.

"I think we had better begin our travel to Las Rosales as quickly as possible." Derek replied, his tone grim.

"I must agree. But not just because of this man's death." Efraim stopped at the entrance to the parlor and looked back at his fellow Legacy members with concern. "Arkady has been seen in Madrid. It seems our "friend" is just as eager for the search to begin as you are."

"Then let's not keep the man waiting." Derek agreed, his eyes cold.


	16. Chapter 16

Pt. 16

Nick worked quickly to pack the gear that the Madrid House had provided them for their work once they arrived at the church. "Man, what do they think we're going to do, dig for coal?" he asked as he tried to find space in the rapidly filling jeep for another Coleman lantern.

"Many of these old churches which have ties to the Templars were built near caves." Philip replied, handing his friend a duffel bag. "This one is probably no different." The young priest shot a worried look back into the interior of the majestic home. "What's keeping Derek?"

"He wanted to ask Senor de la Vega about our two mysterious friends." Alex answered, coming around the corner with Jesus Montoya in tow. "Jesus will be coming with us on this little expedition."

"Why?" Nick asked, glancing quizzically at the old man.

"I am from that town." The elderly man replied, a smile on his face. "The village priest is my cousin. Efraim thinks that perhaps he will be more likely to help me than a bunch of gringos." The smile melted away to a sad frown. "Another member of this house, Manuel Diaz, was to be your guide, but he has disappeared from his home." The sound of a phone ringing in the distance distracted him from his reverie. "I must catch that, my friends. I will be back in a moment." He trotted back into the house with a speed that belied his aged face.

"So we're gringo's? Well, I've been called worse." Nick laughed, shoving the duffel bag in his hands into the last open spot in the jeep. "Anything else to go in here?"

"No, the rest of our gear will go in the other jeep." Alex replied, starting back into the house. "Philip, will you give me a hand checking out the reference material we'll be taking with us?"

"Wait, Alex." Philip replied, gesturing to her. He turned to his friend with a concerned expression on his sensitive face. "Nick, I think you, Alex and I need to talk. Have you noticed that Derek seems to be taking this hunt almost too personally?"

"Yeah, he really didn't like my questioning the motives of those two strange characters who have been feeding us information did he?" Nick leaned against the jeep, mulling over his impressions of the last few days. "It's almost like he has a history with them, or at least with her. I got the impression before we left that you were worried about him, Alex."

"He's been having flashes of the Sight, something I think to do with that woman and the armor. He hasn't said anything about it, but I get the distinct feeling they concern him."

"Yes, he had one when I walked in the room. When he flashed on the idea that one of the men mentioned in the journal might be a woman." Philip cast a worried glance back up at the house. "He's had visions all his life, but for some reason these are intensely personal to him. I wasn't sure if Alex or you or I should try to talk to him about it."

"Philip, by now you should know that if Derek's wrong Alex will be the first one in his face about it, and Rachel and I wouldn't be too far behind her. Anyway, it may just be he's tired. Hell, we're all tired." Nick's quick eyes noticed a shadow moving in the doorway, a form that became Jesus Montoya. The old man's face was lined with sorrow. "Senor Montoya, what's wrong? You look like you lost your best friend."

Jesus looked up at the two young men with somber eyes. "In a way, I have. That was the police. They have found Manuel. He is lying dead in the Prada, a knife in his back."

"Arkady." Nick replied, his eyes cold.

--

Derek and Efraim walked quietly into the Madrid House's hidden control room, it's cool interior a relief from the heat outside. The courtly Spaniard pointed to a painting sitting on a table in the center of the room. "We found this shortly after I was informed of your plans to come to Spain. I thought its subject might be another clue to the treasure you seek. It was painted by an ancestor of mine, many hundreds of years ago. At least, that's what I believe." He pulled the dust cover off the painting with a flourish. "There was writing on the back identifying the title of this painting as The Lord and Lady."

For a moment, Derek felt the room begin to spin. In front of him was a portrait of a man and woman in medieval garments. The woman was dressed in black with a broadsword clasped in front of her. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, as mysterious as the smile on her pale face. The sword's quillions formed a cross at her breast, and she wore crescent moons in her ears. Behind her was a man with flowing golden hair who had his hands outstretched in a summoning. His light eyes glowed with joy from the canvas as though the paint had been freshly applied, though the cracks in the paint told a different story. Behind them both was the banner of the Knights Templar. It was Damion and Marianne, looking just as they had the night he had first seen them in San Francisco. He sank into the first chair he could find and stared at the painting mutely.

"Derek? Have you seen these people before?" Efraim asked gently, kneeling beside his stunned former student.

"Yes, at a charity function for the Luna Foundation. And in photos from the historical archives of the Legacy. But I don't know who or what they are."

"Who they are isn't important." Efraim began patiently. "That they are here at all is what matters most."

Derek looked at his former teacher with interest. "You know them?" he asked, surprised.

"Not personally." Efraim replied dryly, rising to turn a computer screen towards himself. "But I've heard stories of these two, stories that have been handed down through the generations of my family. You know that we have been part of the legacy for hundreds of years, each generation giving one or more of its members to answer the call. What you may not know, what not many others even at the Mother House know, is that for centuries my family has also produced sorcerers of some power. It was they who served these beings from a bygone age. When I found this portrait, I recognized the handwriting on the back as that of my great-uncle, one such magi who also served the Legacy. I had read his journals often when I was a boy. He speaks of this work of art, of finding it hidden away in some dark cavern in an abandon church he was helping to clean of evil spirits. They are the wanderers from the time before man, before the One God, from the time of Magic. They are called the Children of Avalon, forces of nature who once were considered gods. It is said that when they appear, trouble always follows. I have a theory that they are the ones following the path of trouble. They are not always pleasant people to be with, especially the woman. She is a huntress, a soldier, sometimes even an Avenging Angel. He is the more enigmatic of the two, despite his sunnier reputation. But make no mistake, my friend. Their motivation is their own."

Derek looked back at the portrait, concern on his handsome face. "Efraim, I have dreamed of these two. Over and over, seeing her especially in a battlefield long ago. In the time of the Templars. I feel a connection to them - to her. Can they be causing these dreams, using them to control my actions?"

"Anything is possible. My great-uncle's stories claim great powers for both of them, powers that did not diminish when the old religions went into decline. Be careful, my friend. Nothing maybe as you believe, not even your own beliefs."

"Is there anything in your great-uncle's journal to tell me why they have chosen us or more precisely, chosen me to appear to?"

Efraim thought for a moment, reviewing the stories about these two mysterious creatures he had read in his ancestor's journals. "There is a story, one my uncle had heard from his father, who had it from his father. You know how these things go. Well, My uncle said that long ago, when Magic still walked the land with man, the Lady became fond of a mortal. The legend is that this mortal died before she could make him immortal and now his spirit is reborn whenever there is new trouble for them to face. He comes to be at her side, to protect her where her brother-consort can not, in the realm of man. It may be, my friend, that his soul now resides in you."

Derek rose from the chair and started out of the control room. "Be that as it may, I must try to find the answer to this riddle before Arkady. Thank you for your help." He turned with a wan smile and shook his teacher's hand. "I'll be careful, I promise." With that he disappeared into the corridor, heading for the cars.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" a sarcastic voice commented from the shadows. Marianne stepped into the light, the hem of her dark cloak stirring up flecks of dust. "And here all this time I thought we were friends."

"Friends, my lady?" Efraim answered, his eyes steady as he looked down at the mysterious woman before him. "My family has served you and your Lord for generations, but I don't think friendship ever came into the bargain. Besides, I said nothing that was not true. Your reasons for what you do are mysterious, known only to the two of you. My family has served you over the centuries, I simply didn't mention that in this generation the honor was mine. I would not wish my student and friend to be caught up in one of your plots."

"The only plot you need worry yourself about, sorcerer, is the one that minion of darkness Arkady is hatching. He's killed one member of your house and before this is done, he may kill many more. Guard your portals, lest he slither in past your door. It would be very inconvenient for me to have to find another wizard to act as my eyes and ears when we are not in this world." She turned to leave then looked back over her shoulder with a grim smile. "Be more careful of your warnings in the future, de la Vega. I doubt the Legacy would look kindly on a Precept who serves two masters." She disappeared into the shadows, leaving the old man to contemplate the events ahead with concern.

Derek moved quickly towards toward the jeeps waiting in the drive, his friends revelations still sounding in his head. The thought that his might be the soul of the Lady's reincarnated lover filled him at once with dread and desire. Everything he had been taught told him that this could not be, yet there was no denying the feelings he experienced whenever she was near. His reverie was broken as soon as he saw the faces of his team and the sorrowful eyes of their guide.

"What has happened?" he asked, walking up to Nick.

"Looks like the man who was suppose to be our guide was found dead in the Prado. Any bets who our assassin was?" Nick replied, staring up at his mentor.

Derek turned to face the old man at Philip's side. "Senor Montoya, I am sorry for the loss of a member of your house, but can you tell me what Arkady could have gotten from him that might have been worth his life?"

"Si, he had collected much information about the church for your team, blueprints, notes made by other researchers who had gone to investigate the symbols in the graveyard. All of this was in his possession before he disappeared."

"But it didn't disappear with him?" Alex asked, concern in her voice.

"No, the originals are still here but I know he made copies to give to you. Those copies are not in the House."

"Great! Just great!" Nick muttered, walking around to get into the drivers seat. "So Arkady has the same information we have and probably has a headstart in getting to Las Rosales. We'd better hit the road if we expect to get there before he does."

The team piled into the two jeeps, with Derek and Jesus taking up the lead in the first car. It would take the two car caravan several hours to reach their destination, time they could ill afford to waste. Derek pulled the original blueprints from their protective covering, wincing at the thought of exposing the old documents to the heat and dust of a long road trip.

"It looks like the church was built over a set of caverns. Do you know if anyone has ever explored these caves, seen where they went?"

"No Senor, at least, not very much." Jesus replied, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the road in front of him. "The caverns are very deep and the people of the village had more important things to do with their time than get lost in them. Las Rosales is a very poor place, Senor. There isn't much time for adventure."

"What about the village priest?" Derek asked, carefully folding the old documents and placing them back in their box.

"As I told Nick and the others, the priest is my cousin. Efraim arranged with the Church to have him assigned to his home as their parish priest. It is not often that such a thing is done, but my cousin's parents were elderly when he took his vows. If it had not been arranged so, he would not have been able to take Holy Orders. He is not a very adventurous sort, Senor, a good and honorable man but not one who would go out of his way to look for new puzzles to solve. His predecessor wrote a history of the church which he keeps in his library. Perhaps there are hints there to where to look for whatever it is you seek."

Derek smiled as he looked at the old man. "I'm sorry we've been so secretive. The treasure we seek is so valuable it seemed best that only those who needed to know be told."

"Then do not tell me, Senor. I'm here to get you to the village. It is not necessary that I know what you seek once you get there." The old man looked at his companion somberly. "And it may be safer for me and my House that you do not tell me. My friend may have been killed for the knowledge in his head. I may be old but I value what little time I may have left."

"I understand." Derek replied, watching the scenery flash by as they turned off the highway. Their journey of discovery was only hours away from completion, yet he had the uneasy feeling that the adventure had just begun.


	17. Chapter 17

**Pt.17**

Padre Saenz walked quickly along the dusty main street of his home town, mentally checking off the things still left for him to do in his busy day. There were the Allende family to visit, whose son had just joined the military over is father's strong objections. Senora Valle had asked for him to visit a while with her aging mother, and the Senor Macias had to be informed that his daughter had skipped school again. Small matters and not related to his role as Father Confessor for his village. Yet he had always felt that being involved in helping his friends and neighbors in their daily trials and tribulations gave his words more credence on Sunday than if he never left his rectory. He knew that his fellow seminarians, many of whom had gone on to be scholars and aspired to power in the Church, looked down on his post as a humble village priest. Yet it was the only place in the whole world where he felt complete.

"Padre?" a soft voice floated out of a doorway, catching his attention. He looked up into a pair of violet eyes that seemed to pull him in and surround him with their beauty. "I'm sorry, but may my brother and I have a word with you?" A young woman stepped from the door, dressed in white linen, her face shaded from the sun by a broad brimmed hat.

"Of course, Senorita. How may I help you?"

Damien stepped from behind his companion, moving out of the shadows into the brightness of the noon day sun. "Padre, we come bearing a warning for you from the Bishop."

Padre Saenz tore his eyes from the young woman in front of him to look at the man. "A warning, Senor? About what?"

" A man called Arkady. He is Know to the Church hierarchy as one who profits from destruction." Damien replied, lifting his face to the hot, blinding light of the sun. His eyes seemed to gleam with the fire of the hot sun, causing the old priest to back up in alarm.

"Why would such a man come to Las Rosales? There is nothing here for such a one to take."

"You would be surprised, Padre." The woman replied, reaching out to her companion. She caught the younger man's hand and gently eased him out of the sun's bright rays. "You would be surprised what that one could find in such a town as this. Beware, Padre, of the wolf in sheep's clothing. He may carry away the prize before you have the chance to think."

"How do I know that you come from the Bishop?" the priest questioned, his voice laced with suspicion.

"You don't." the woman conceded, turning her back and beginning to stroll down the dusty street, her companion firmly in tow. The priest hesitated for a moment, debating whether to follow. Suddenly, a gust of wind stirred the dust around him, sending him into a coughing fit. When he looked again, the couple had disappeared.

--

Arkady eyed the run-down church with disdain. This was no grand cathedral, no ornate chapel built by master builders. Much of the structure was patched over with newer styles of architecture, overlaying what once must have been a simple, yet sturdy structure. Some parts of the exterior still needed work, and some looked like nothing could save the parishioners from having the building fall down around their ears. Yet this was the place that the Legacy team had inquired about, this was the place their search would bring them to. For the life of him, he couldn't see why.

"May I help you?" a querulous voice inquired from behind him. An elderly priest appeared out of a side street and approached, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

"Yes, I was just admiring the architecture of you church. It's quite old, isn't it?" Arkady responded, smiling what he thought would be a pleasant smile.

The priest frowned, looking first at his church and then at the stranger. "I believe it was built in the early Middle Ages, Senor. But I could not tell you exactly when. My predecessor, Father Salinas, could have given you more information, but I fear he was killed by a bomb planted by Basque rebels while he was in Madrid."

"Well, medieval architecture is something of a hobby of mine. Perhaps you would let me take a look around and see if I could date the structure myself." Arkady held out his hand to the old man. "My name is Victor Arkady. I could make it worth your while."

The priest fought to keep the surprise from his face. This was the man the couple had warned him about. "If Senor Arkady would like to make a donation to the collection for the poor, then he is free to do so. But the Church is not a museum where one can tour the galleries at any time. This is the house of God and the people of the village would take it ill if it were desecrated, even in the name of history. I cannot spare you a guide today, but come back in the morning and perhaps I can arrange for one of the local boys to take you around and show you the inside of the Church and the cemetery." He turned and walked into the church, shrugging off any attempt by the other man to continue the conversation.

Arkady watched the old man walk away, stunned. It was obvious from the priest's reaction that he had been warned to expect him. *Derek must have sent word ahead for the priest to keep me out.* he thought, looking up and down the street. *If he thinks some little old man is going to stop me_* He started towards the door of the church then stopped suddenly in his tracks. The heavy wooden doors had opened and in the entrance stood a powerful looking man, his dark eyes smoldering with suspicion. Behind him, Arkady could just make out the slight figure of the old priest. Discretion being the better part of valor, Arkady gave the duo a jaunty wave and started back to his hotel. He had plans he had to implement before the Legacy team reached their destination.


	18. Chapter 18

**Pt.18**

Derek dozed fitfully in the front seat of the jeep, kept partially awake by the jerks and halts of travel through the country. They had driven for an hour before they had encountered their first obstacle, an overheating engine in the vehicle driven by Nick. It had taken some time to find a garage, then even longer to find a replacement car when the damage to the engine was discovered to be too great to fix quickly. Then there was the road construction, which had forced them to make detours that ate up precious time. Finally they had made the turn which would take them into the interior. Las Rosales was only an hour away. Derek could feel the heat of the sun beating down on him through the window, its radiance spreading through his body like a fever. A fine mist of sweat formed on his forehead, matting his hair. He could smell the dust in the air, the dust and something else ..

"Laurent! What ails you man? Quickly, we must get the trunk down to the dock before the sun rises and the enemy can prevent us from completing our task!"

He opened his eyes and looked into the worried countenance of one of his brother knights. The man's eyes were shadowed with fatigue and fear. The room in which they sat was dark and smoky, making it hard to distinguish the other members of the order sitting around the table. On the table in front of him was the armor and shield, the relics of their beloved first grand master. He could barely make-out one of his brethren, paint brush in hand, leaning over the wooden shield, adding a few finishing strokes to the message it would bear to his father. The huge chest the armor would travel in was lying open at his feet, a smaller box already packed in its depths.

"We must hurry." A voice replied urgently from his left. Vivid violet eyes seem to burn through the haze into his mind, igniting a surge of emotion in his soul.

"Philip?" he heard himself ask, his voice hoarse from the smoke. "Are you …?"

"Yes?" the other person responded, their piercing gaze never leaving him. "Am I what?" the other's bandaged face swam into view, long dark hair spilling from under a hooded cloak.

He stared into those eyes, searching for an answer to his unspoken question, for a logic behind the unimaginable thought that a woman could masquerade as a man and not be found out. Searching for the reason behind his heart's sudden pounding at the gaze directed at him. Somewhere beside him he could hear a voice calling his name, calling him…

"Senor Rayne? Are you all right?" Jesus asked anxiously, reaching one hand from the wheel to touch the other man's arm.

Derek jerked awake suddenly, his visions fading from his mind as quickly as it had come. "Yes, I'm fine. I must have nodded off. Sorry." He passed a hand over his forehead, noting the sweat which had formed. "It's very warm in here." He stated, looking in the back seat for the thermos. His fingers brushed against his notebook, which had spilled out of one of the bags. Pages from his translation of the Templar manuscript had fluttered on to the car's floorboard. He snatched them up with a muttered oath and began to set them back in order, reading through them briefly as he did. One set of passages caught his eye, holding his attention as they slowly made their way to their destination.

Translated from the journal of Sir Laurent Dubois

What madness is this that has come over me? Never before have I been tempted to stray from the strict rules of the order, never tempted to err. Yet now I have find myself standing in the center of this city under siege, searching for God alone knows what. People scurry around me like ants, each trying to find that one place of sanctuary that the enemy would never find. My brother knights are all around me, checking battlements, moving wounded comrades, hurrying the civilians out of their way before the next battle. She was there as well, the woman I saw only the other day, clothed in a gray linen under dress and an outer garment of some dusky color I can not identify. The outer garment is open at the sides down to her hips, revealing the belt she wears beneath it. On her sleeves she wears bands of color, embroidered shapes I can not quite make out, shapes that look like intertwined ribbons and animals. Her dark hair is pulled back and covered with a veil and around her brow is a simple chaplet. She smiles at me across the dust and haze then turns and disappears into the alleyway behind her. I moved quickly to follow, vowing this time no one would stop me before I had a chance to speak to her.

Stepping into the alley, I felt as though I had stepped into another world. The sounds I had left behind, sounds of war and death had suddenly ceased. There was no sound at all in this narrow passage, not even the familiar sounds of the city. All was quiet, almost deathly quiet. I moved through the alley slowly, my eyes searching each of the windows and doors I passed for signs of the woman's passing. No one came to the windows to shout down at me, no one at the doors to try to catch my eye. It was as though the buildings were already deserted, their occupants gone in anticipation of the coming battle. Yet I knew that only the other day, these very stone structures had teemed with life, people going about their every day affairs oblivious to the coming conflict. *Mon dieu! What is this happening? * I thought, *What enchantment has trapped me?*

"Nothing that will harm you." A voice replied. I turned to find myself looking into expressionless violet eyes. The woman stood impassively before me, her veiled folded back from her face.

"Why did you follow me, chevalier?"

"I..meant no harm, Lady. I only_" I stuttered. I was intensely aware of the wrongness of my actions yet nothing could have prevented me from coming, nothing short of death itself.

"I was under the impression that those of your order could not be alone in the presence of a woman, not even their own sisters because of their vow of chastity. Am I mistaken in this? She asked, moving closer. One slender hand reached out to brush my cheek, a gentle touch which sent shivers down my spine.

"You are right, Lady." I replied hoarsely, clenching my hands behind my back. "Even this innocent speech between us is forbidden to me as a member of my order. Yet I am compelled_ by what I do not know. I know only that I would know your name before I die, that I may carry it with me to Paradise."

The woman sighed. Her eyes fixed on a point behind my shoulder, a point somewhere beyond the entrance to the alley. "It's time for you to go, chevalier. Another calls to me and I must answer. Know only that when the time comes, I will be with you." She walked into the shadows beside me and disappeared. I had risked all for nothing. For this beauty who had captured my soul with a look was a mystery still and I feared there was no more time for me to unravel the secrets she kept behind her violet eyes.

Derek sighed as he closed the notebook, feeling the frustration the writer must have felt when he penned the entry in the journal. Ahead, a dusty grouping of houses was coming into view, signaling their arrival in Las Rosales. He put the journal entries back into his bag with an exasperated shove, vowing he would give the entries no more of his time and emotion. There was too much ahead which required both his mind and his heart to give it to the writings of a man long dead.


	19. Chapter 19

**Pt.19**

The two jeeps carrying the Legacy team pulled up in front of an aging stone building. Jesus had arranged for rooms in a private home which took in the rare tourists who managed to wander so far from the main cities. Its owners, their guide explained, were related to one of the other House members and would ask no questions of their American guests. Nick looked up at the cracked facade with a rueful grin.

"Well, I've stayed in worse." He said, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder. "At least this place will have indoor plumbing, unlike some of those dig sites Derek's dragged me to."

"Nice quiet little town." Alex commented, looking up and down the dusty streets.

"Let's hope it stays that way." Derek replied grimly.

"If Arkady is already here, where would he be staying?" Philip asked, reaching into the jeep for his bag.

"Nick, once we've settled in I want you to start scouting the area, see if you can located Arkady." Derek ordered, his eyes stern. "Alex you stay and set up here. Make sure you can get a good connection to the Legacy database from your laptop. Philip and I will go to the church and talk to the local priest."

Nick cast a quick look at the other members of his party, his mind recalling another time when his precept had split the team to better cover more ground. That decision, which had cost Julia her life, had hung between the young man and his mentor for a very long time. Now he feared Derek had again chosen expediency over safety. Alex frowned and ever so slightly shook her head, motioning him to remain silent for the time being.

"Senor Rayne? May I introduce our host, Senor Allende. He is abuelo to our youngest member Vincente." Jesus lead another elderly man to the group, glancing with concern at Derek. The other man, a small frail looking individual with a luxurious handlebar mustache, held out his hand to the group's leader.

"Buenos Dias, Senor Rayne." The man began, his English accented but understandable. "It is an honor to have you here. Mi Casa es su Casa. My home is your home."

"Thank you for having us, Senor Allende." Derek responded gravely, shaking the old man's hand firmly. "I hope that my friends and I will not be too much of an imposition." He turned and handed Alex his bag then motioned to their guide. "Jesus, can you tell me how far it is to the church from here?"

"You will speak to Padre Saenz?" Senor Allende asked quizzically. "He will be here in a few moments to speak to my family."

"I'm going to go ahead with my recon." Nick said, opening his bag on the jeeps hood.

"What are you looking for?" Alex asked.

"My gun." He replied, fishing the small package out of the bottom of the bag. He unwrapped it and clipped the revolver to the back of his belt, under his shirt.

"How did you get that past customs?" Philip asked, horrified.

"It was in my luggage in a lined box." Nick replied, scanning the dusty streets with a practiced eye. "Figured I had a better chance of getting into the country with it there than in my carry on stuff. " He shrugged off the concerned glances directed at him by his team. "What? Did you really think I was going to run up against Arkady without a weapon, especially after the last time?"

"There's no time for that now." Derek interjected, motioning Alex forward. "Just try to keep that out sight of the local police." He entered the house behind Alex with Philip, Jesus and Senor Allende trailing along behind him. Nick shrugged and started off down the street, then stopped and looked back along the row of stone buildings. He could feel the prickling of the hair on the back of his neck as it stood up in the noon day heat. There were eyes watching him walk down the street yet there was no one visible on the street.

"Must be my imagination." He muttered to himself, walking quickly down the cobblestone street.

"Imagination can be a dangerous thing, soldier. Gets people into all sorts of trouble." A voice replied from behind him. He whirled to find himself looking into Marianne's amused eyes. The tall brunette was leaning against the crumbling facade of the town's only bank, dressed in beige slacks and shirt. Her long hair was pulled up into a tight bun and tucked inside a dusty Panama hat. She smiled engagingly at the surprised man.

"Where the hell did you come from?" he sputtered, reaching automatically for the gun at his belt.

"That wouldn't be a good idea." She pointed up, looking up the alley way behind him. "Since I think that's a police officer coming towards us. Considering the trouble lately with the Basques, the police would be less than understanding about some American walking their streets "packing heat". That is the proper phrase, isn't it?"

"Close enough." Nick agreed grudgingly, yanking his jacket back over the clip at his belt. "You didn't answer my question."

"Not likely to either, not if it's asked in that tone of voice." She began to move down the alley towards the spot where the officer had been standing. Nick fell in at her side, curiosity winning out over his natural paranoia.

"You're after the cup, aren't you?"

"Not exactly." Marianne replied, matching her stride to the young man at her side. "I'm just here to observe. Treasure hunts are not my favorite type of sporting events.. I'd rather be out hunting boar with my hounds and my bow. Or maybe a bear. Yes, right now I would dearly love to be hunting bear."

"So sorry we're keeping you from your playtime." Nick replied sarcastically. "I don't suppose you want to tell me what you and your brother want with Derek or is that something I'll have to find out the hard way."

"I haven't a clue what my brother might want, either with the cup or Derek." She said, mentally chastising herself for the lie. "We can talk about it some other time. For right now, I suggest we step into this alleyway here and wait for a certain Mr. Arkady to pass us by when he steps out of that café across the street. If we are clever we can follow without being seen and discover where he goes. What do you say, soldier? Willing to call a temporary truce until the cup is found?"

Nick looked quickly in the direction of the café Marianne mentioned. Arkady was there, barely visible through the glass as he used their telephone. He glanced back at the woman at his side, who was already moving to take up a position in the alley. Nick weighed what he knew about Arkady with what he didn't know about this mysterious creature offering her assistance and slid into the alley at her side. "Truce it is. But when this is over…"

"When this is over soldier, you and I will have many stories to tell and songs to sing, just as all warriors do at the end of their battle. But for now…" she leaned against the brick walls, willing the shadows to cover her and her companion as they waited for their prey to make his next move.


	20. Chapter 20

**Pt.20**

Arkady mentally cursed a blue streak as he slammed the café's phone done. It was bad enough that he was having to stay in that joke of a bed and breakfast but that there was no working phone in the hostel which had been almost too much to believe. It had taken him some time to find a phone whose owner was willing to allow him to monopolize it. If that wasn't enough, the small group of hired mercenaries he had hired before arriving in Madrid had just been picked up in a general round-up by the authorities. Someone, it seemed, had called in a tip about Basque extremists gathering in a particular house, armed with automatic and chemical weapons. The house had just happened to be leased under his name and the men in his employee, something the anonymous tipster had neglected to mention. The police hadn't wasted time in assaulting the place and it would be some time before his lawyers would be able to free them. "_If I bother to free them at all_." he fumed, grabbing his now wrinkled jacket and storming out of the café. "_They're no use to me now_." He stomped down the streets, ignoring the annoyed looks from the local inhabitants he managed to shove out of his way. He didn't notice the two shadows following him until he reached the plaza, the center of the town's social life. It was then he happened to glance into a shop window and recognize a figure reflected there.

Nick and Marianne followed the agitated Arkady for several blocks, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, a feat made more difficult by the fact that strangers rarely visited the small town and so tended to stand out. Nick noticed that more than a few of the men they passed gave his companion a look that spoke volumes. "Don't think you're going to stay incognito long." He commented, maneuvering so that he was between the woman and most of the men they passed.

Marianne sighed. "Damien tells me that I'm a distraction. I wouldn't know, though. The only time I look in a mirror…well, let's just say it's not my face I'm looking for." She grinned as a wicked thought surfaced. Without warning she leaned over and planted a kiss on the surprised ex-SEAL's cheek. "There. Now they will look at you with envy, thinking you must be "muy macho" very much a man to have such a woman."

Nick laughed, then stopped in his tracks. Their quarry had moved into the central plaza and was staring into a shop window with an intensity that worried him. "Damn! I think we've been made." He moved forward to intercept the man when he realized his companion was no longer at his side. "Where the hell did she go?" He turned back to see Arkady moving towards him across the plaza.

"_Damn_!" Arkady thought, seeing the stocky figure of Rayne's chief of security in the glass. "_Well, I knew I was going to run into that lot sooner or later. Maybe I can turn this to my advantage_." He turned and moved directly toward the surprised Legacy member, a false smile on his face. "Mr. Boyle! Fancy meeting you here. Small world, isn't it?"

"Yeah, small world." Nick replied, quickly regaining his composure. "So, what brings you to this little piece of Heaven?"

"Oh, I think we both know what I'm here for Nick. I can call you Nick can't I?"

"Mr. Boyle is fine with me." Nick replied tightly.

"Really now, that's not very friendly is it? I'm not as bad a person as Derek would have you believe."

"Tell that to Sister Jehanne. I'm sure it would be a great comfort to her to know you didn't mean to let her walk into that demon's clutches."

Arkady smiled sadly. "Well, even if I had told her, do you think she would have listened? Fanatics have a way of hearing only what they want to hear."

"What's the point of this conversation, Arkady?" Nick replied angrily, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

"You're right, this discussion is rather pointless isn't it? Well, I think I see a conversation that might be much more interesting. That policeman over there, the one talking to the pretty brunette. I wonder what he'd say when I tell him you threatened me with that illegal gun you're wearing."

Nick turned to see Marianne talking animatedly to a local officer who was listening intently to whatever she had said. He moved to stop Arkady from walking across the street towards them then stopped as the officer turned to them with a frown.

"Senor, this lady says that you have threatened her and her friends with violence. Is this true?"

Arkady smiled smugly at Nick. "Yes, this young man has made some threats…"

"No Senor, I'm talking about you. This Senorita has said you are carrying a weapon. This is a crime in Spain, punishable by time in jail."

"That's absurd! This man is the one carrying a gun not me. If you don't believe me, search him." Arkady demanded, his voice raised in anger.

Nick looked quickly at Marianne, who nodded imperceptibly. "Sure, go ahead. I've nothing to hide." He locked his finger together behind his head and stood with his legs apart as the officer did a quick pat down. When he ran his hand down Nick's back, the soldier realized that the familiar bulge of his gun clip was missing. Nick looked back at his companion to see her surreptitiously make a mystical sign with her hand in the air behind Arkady.

"My apologies, Senor. It is obvious you are not carrying a weapon." The officer removed his baton from his belt and moved to stand in front of Arkady. "Now you."

"This is ridiculous. I'm not carrying…" Arkady's voice trailed off as he felt the gun clip fall from his belt to the ground behind him. "This is a trap! A set-up! These people are trying to frame me!"

"We will let the authorities decide what is true in your case, Senor. Senorita, I would ask that you and your friend not leave the village until this matter is resolved." The officer roughly grabbed the still protesting Arkady and moved him quickly out of the plaza and towards the jail.

Nick looked at his companion with suspicion. "How did you do that?"

"Now is not the time to discuss parlor tricks, soldier. We must gather your fellow hunters and the find the cup, before our enemy finds an official willing to believe in the color of his money." She trotted off in the direction of the hotel, Nick following quickly behind her. In the distance, Arkady's voice could still be heard protesting his innocence.


	21. Chapter 21

**Pt.21**

Derek moved quickly down the narrow streets, the village priest and Philip at his side. The group had not had to wait long before beginning their journey to the village Church. Padre Saenz had arrived at the residence shortly after Nick had left on his reconnaissance and had been greeted with enthusiasm by his cousin Jesus.

"Holla Primo!" Jesus had called out, ignoring the shocked look on his hosts face. "Como estas? How are you ? It's been a long time since we last saw one another hasn't it?'

"Probably as long as it's been since your last confession." Padre Saenz replied dryly in Spanish, embracing his cousin with affection. "What brings you here to our little village? Surely it's not to hear one of my sermons."

"No!" Jesus laughed, motioning the remaining Legacy members to step forward. "I've heard enough sermons in my lifetime. My employer, Senor de la Vega, asked me to bring these people to Las Rosales. They have an interest in the old gravestones behind the church and the caverns underneath it."

"We're not far from the church are we?" Alex asked, fishing in her jacket for the keys to the jeep. She ignored the frown on her precept's face, determined that this time she would not be left behind to mind the computers.

"No Senorita, the church is just a little over a mile from here at the edge of town." Jesus assured her, tucking his own keys back in his pocket. "This is a small village. Everything here is within walking distance."

"Suddenly my poor church is the center of attention." Padre Saenz commented switching to heavily accented English. His eyes swept over the strangers finally lighting on Philip's priestly collar. "You are interested in the history of my church, my brother?"

"Father Philip Callighan at your service Sir. These are my friends Dr. Derek Rayne and Alexandra Moreau." Philip began, looking back at his leader. Derek motioned for him to continue. "We are from the Luna Foundation in California and have an interest in the relationship between your church and an ancient fighting order known as the Knights Templar. We have been told that some of that order might have retired to this village many centuries ago, when the order was disbanded."

"I have heard stories since I was a nino that such an order once buried some of their dead in our old cemetery, but there is no written proof of that. Only the strange symbols on some of the tombstones that the old women say are signs to keep away the devil." Padre Saenz thought for a moment, then looked intently at his cousin. "Senor de la Vega is a good and decent man. If he speaks for you, then I can trust you come only in the service of good. Come, I will show you the church and the graveyard. The caves, I fear, you will have to search yourself. I'm too old for such explorations. But I fear you may be disappointed." He took his cousin by the arm and began to walk in the direction of the church. Derek and Philip quietly fell into step behind them.

"Father, you said your church has become the center of attention." Alex commented as she strolled along beside the older men. "Has someone else been asking about the Templars?"

"A man was asking about the church just today. From the way he spoke I would say he was an American, like you. He was pleasant enough but his eyes were cold, like a snake. It is fortunate that the Bishop sent that young couple to warn me of his designs on my church."

Derek stopped dead in the center of the sidewalk. "A young couple? Was the man tall and blond and the woman dark-haired with violet eyes?"

"Ah, You known them!" Padre Saenz exclaimed, turning back to the stranger. "Yes, that was them. A very nice young couple, but strange in their own way. Yet I felt that their warning was meant with good intentions. They were, after all, sent by the Bishop." He continued back along his path, oblivious to the effect his words had on the man behind him.

"So our mysterious friends got here ahead of us." Alex commented, gently urging her stunned precept on down the road. "If they knew the cup was here, why didn't they just get it and leave?"

"I don't think they can." Derek whispered, his mind racing at the unexpected news. His hand slipped involuntarily to the arrow pendant under his shirt, reassuring himself that the Lady's gift was still there. "I think they are only able to guard it from a distance. But why is the danger so great now? What has changed since it was brought here that makes it so important that the cup be moved again?"

"Arkady's interest?" Alex guessed, watching Philip try out his Spanish on his fellow priest.

"No. If it were just Arkady they would eliminate him as they did his hired killer. Something else has occurred to make this place too dangerous for the cup to remain." Derek quickened his pace, pulling Alex along in his wake. Ahead of them was the old village church and the last piece of their puzzle.

Nick raced along the narrow streets, following the instructions his companion had received from passersby. At least, he hoped that's what she had asked. Nick's Spanish was passable for shore leave but Marianne had left him in the dirt when she had begun to speak to the local postman. "Pretty long conversation for such a simple question." He remarked, glancing back to see if the woman was still beside him.

"No conversation is ever simple, especially in a small town." Marianne replied, looking behind her with a frown. "Did it occur to you, soldier, that it was too easy to get Mr. Arkady out of the way?"

"Yeah, surprisingly it did. Don't suppose you know who he called?"

"Probably reinforcements. There is no more time to waste." Marianne stopped and shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight. "There is the church. Your companions should be here shortly. Find the treasure and find it soon, lest the fates catch up with you and wrest your prize away." She turned and started off across the field, away from the churchyard.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Nick called out, starting after her. Suddenly he felt a rush of wings above his head as a bird flew silently out of the sun and grazed his face. He threw himself to the ground and rolled, reaching instinctively for the gun he knew was no longer there. But the attack did not continue. Nick watched in amazement as a Little Owl flew after the rapidly fading figure of the woman as she made for a glade of trees beside a mound of rocks. It dipped momentarily to snatch a field mouse off the ground before it vanished as quietly as it had appeared. "_What the hell!_" he thought to himself. "_Owls don't come out in the daytime. Hell, I'm not even sure there are owl like that in Spain. What's going on_?" He picked himself up and after a moments hesitation, retreated back to the church to await reinforcements.

--

"Well, all players are on the board now." Damien commented, leaning against the rocks as his sister moved to join him. He glanced back at the partially blocked entrance to the caves that would soon become the center of the human's treasure hunt.

"Yes, but I fear that it will take more time than they have for them to find the right path to their goal." Marianne remarked, removing her hat and letting her hair down from its severe bun. From behind her, the owl which had attacked Nick swooped down onto a shaded branch, the appearance of a frown on its face. It sat solemnly on the tree branch, finishing its meal as it waited for its mistress's attention. "Yes, I know you don't like hunting in the daylight, but there was no other way and besides there weren't any crows about. I made sure of that. You and I both know the wolves would have been too rough to use as a distraction. I need the man able to defend himself and his friends, not partially crippled by the jaws of a playful dog." She tossed the hat down under the tree and moved to join her brother beside the cave entrance.

"We've already done more for these humans than we should." Damien reminded her, examining the rocks with exaggerated care. "We can do no more for them except watch."

"I'm aware of our limitations." Marianne replied in exasperation. "All I'm saying is that they need more time." She ran one hand over the crumbling rocks blocking the entrance, noting the slight gaps with interest. "Perhaps a little diversionary tactic is in order."

"Sister…" Damien warned, his voice grim.

"I'm not suggesting that we intervene again. Just that we … point out a few things that they might use to send their adversary in another direction, at least for a while."

Damien sighed then smiled, throwing his hands up in the air. He knew no matter what he said, she would hunt in her own way, maneuvering the Legacy members as she would her hunting dogs until she had brought down the prize. With any luck, he would be there at the kill to prevent her hunter's instincts from overriding her noble heart. He moved out of the glade and disappeared into the bright waves of sunshine, leaving Marianne to contemplate her next move. Above their heads, the owl fluffed his wings and closed his yellow eyes, preparing for the coming of night and the beginning of a proper hunt.


	22. Chapter 22

**Pt.22**

"Derek! Over here!" Nick called out, holding a piece of his shirt to the scratches the owls claws had left on the top of his head. He grimaced as he pulled the cloth away to check of the bleeding had stopped. From what little he knew about owls, he had a feeling that he had gotten off lucky to only have received a few superficial scratches.

"What happened to you?" Alex asked, running up to her partner.

"I lost an argument with an owl." Nick replied, shrugging off her concern. "Your friends around here somewhere, Derek."

"My friend?" Derek responded, looking beyond Nick to the old church.

"Yeah, the lady with the attitude. She helped me ditch Arkady back in the village square, but I have a feeling that won't last long. She essentially told me to get on with it, find the prize before Arkady and his goons regroup."

Derek tore his eyes from the church to focus on Nick. "Did she do this to you?"

"No. But I bet she and that owl on are first name basis. It's not bad, let's just get on with it. It's going to be dark soon"

Padre Saenz approached the group a worried frown on his face. "You are injured my son?"

Nick made a face and tucked the rag in his pants pocket. "Not really. Thanks for asking."

"Father, can we examine the church now?" Philip requested, attempting to distract the older man from Nick's injury.

"Yes, of course. There are stones in the church which have symbols on them that no one remembers the meaning of. Also, some of the older gravestones have these marks. Those are located at the far end of the cemetery, close to one of the entrances to the caves." The Spanish priest moved to lead his guests into his sanctuary, followed by all but Derek. The Legacy precept stood for a moment looking across the field caught in a vision of the future.

He saw his friends running through an underground tunnel, bullets flying around them. A voice was urging them to run faster, but he wasn't sure why. There was the sound of an explosion just behind him and rocks and dust flying everywhere. With a startled gasp, he came out of the vision to find himself looking Philip's worried eyes.

"I saw you stay behind and thought there might be something wrong." Philip said, his soft brogue soothing to the ear.

"I saw something, something that tells me we'd better get on with this hunt, before Arkady's reinforcements arrive to help their master." Derek turned and started off towards the cemetery, the young priest trailing in his wake. Behind them the shape of an owl in flight could be seen in the fading light.


	23. Chapter 23

**Pt.23**

Alex and Philip managed to make tracings of the symbols in the church on the gravestones before the sun set too far in the horizon. They seemed to be similar to those found on the armor, clues pointing to a location near the church where something had been concealed. But finding their precise translation was proving more difficult than either of the Legacy researchers had anticipated. Padre Saenz had graciously invited the group to take supper with him, an invitation which they were glad to accept. His housekeeper had quickly set more places at the priests table with the help of her granddaughter, a bored young teenage girl with an interest in anything American. She and Nick had quickly struck up a conversation about music and cars.

"I think we need to have a frame of reference to guide us to the right location." Alex remarked, reading her notes for the fifth time. She stretched her arms above her head, trying to work the knots out her back. "If our translation is correct, then these are directions to somewhere but they make no sense."

"They refer to landmarks that may no longer exist." Philip mused, munching on a piece of bread. "Trees that died long ago, buildings that burned, that sort of thing."

Derek only half listened to the conversation, his eyes fixed on the fire before him. His vision had disturbed him more than he was willing to admit. Somewhere in the background, the young girl was playing a CD for Nick, a song by Loreena McKennett with a Middle Eastern beat to it. The heat in the room and the tempo of the music lulled him into a trance-like state, his Sight overwhelming his normal senses. A vision began to form, a vision of a stone cavern with shelves carved into the walls. Nothing moved in the room, not even the dust yet somehow he sensed a force was present, beckoning him. In his vision he moved to a shadowed niche peering futility into the darkness for the thing he knew was there. A voice sounded softly in his ear…

"There Knight, there is what you seek. Reach out your hand to it and it is yours. Reach out…" He could just make out the glow in the far corner and feel the power emanating from it. A power which was intoxicating in its strength. He reached for it, longing for its touch, longing for something he could not describe. "Reach out Knight…"

"Derek?" Alex's voice broke through his reverie, banishing his vision as quickly as it had formed. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He replied, his voice tight. "What have you discovered?"

"Padre Saenz has gone into his study to see if he can find his predecessors notes. Seems the priest that was assigned here before he was had made a study of those marks in the church and in the graveyard. He seemed to feel that if he could find out what the lay of the land was when they were made, he might be able to locate the entrance to cave the directions mention." Alex knelt quietly at his Precept's feet, her face worried. "What is it, Derek? Tell me what's wrong and don't tell me nothing because I know better."

"It's just a vision Alex" he replied, softly, looking back at the fire. "A voice in my head telling me to reach out for something. It frightens me."

"Why does it frighten you?"

"Because of how much I want what I'm reaching for. Someone once told me that the cursed items the Legacy finds itself in possession of are not evil but have been used to perform evil deeds. The intent of the user is all important. And the faith. I'm not sure my motives are all that pure in seeking the Grail or my faith strong enough to face it."

Alex laid a hand gently on her mentors arm in comfort. "If you can trust yourself as completely as we trust in you Derek, than your faith will be strong enough and your motives will be clear. Just believe in yourself. I do."

Derek smiled wearily at his friend. "Thank you Alex."

"We found it!" Jesus exclaimed, entering with his cousin at his heels. "Here, Padre Moreno made a map of the area from a description he found in an old tome. See, here are the markers that the symbols speak of. The cave entrance is just here." He pointed to a spot on the map with a gnarled finger.

Nick looked down at the map with interest. "Well, if that marker is the Church," he began, pointing to a rough drawing of a building in the center of the map, "then this cave entrance is somewhere in the graveyard."

"Yes." Padre Saenz agreed, peering at the map. "It looks as if the entrance is at the far corner of the graveyard, but I haven't seen anything that looks like a cave there."

"It's probably overgrown by now." Alex commented.

"Or it was deliberately blocked. Is there a sepulcher or grave in that far corner?" Derek asked, his interest peaked.

"Yes, now that you mention it. There is a very old grave there, but I can not tell you whose. There is no headstone, only a pile of rocks to mark where the body lay. I wouldn't have known it for a grave at all except for a notation in the church registry." Padre Saenz bustled back into his office and returned with a dusty, leather-bound tome. Derek winced as the old priest dropped the ancient manuscript unceremoniously on the table. "Now where did I see that…Oh yes, here it is. An unknown vagrant was buried in that part of the graveyard. Oh dear!" The elderly priest re-read the faded writing on the page with a worried frown.

"What's wrong father?" Philip asked.

"That part of the graveyard was unconsecrated ground when this burial was recorded." The priest explained, rubbing his hands together nervously. "This man was buried there because he was a suicide."

"Are you sure, Padre?" Alex asked, moving to stand beside the old man.

"It is so hard to read this writing." Padre Saenz complained, moving his finger slowly across the entry. "I would not be able to read it at all if not for Padre Moreno's insistence that we both be able to read it. He was interested in the study of his families lineage and thought that translating these entries would help others who held a similar interest."

"Good for him." Nick remarked, sitting on the edge of the group where he could watch the door. "So what's the problem with unconsecrated ground?"

"Nothing." Derek replied firmly. "Anyone looking for the treasure wouldn't think to look in unhallowed ground because of the item's reputation. It would make the perfect hiding place."

"What is this item you are seeking?" Padre Saenz asked suspiciously.

"Something that the Church would not want to fall into the hands of a man like Arkady. It is the cup of Christ, the Holy Grail." Derek answered solemnly.

"Dios Mio!" Padre Saenz moaned, then fainted dead away.


	24. Chapter 24

**Pt.24**

"Padre Saenz!" Alex gasped, as the elderly man slid to the ground.

Nick caught his still form before his head could hit the stone floor. The ex-SEAL propped the old man up in a chair and left him to Alex's tender mercies with help from Philip. "I'm not sure that was a smart move." Nick commented, looking up at Derek.

"He had to know eventually." Derek replied wearily, looking out of the window. He stared out at the spot where the church registry claimed the supposed "suicide" had been consigned, a spot as far away from the other graves as it was possible to be and still be in site of the church. "It would be pointless to try to find the site tonight. You, Alex and Philip should get some rest."

"What about you?" Nick asked, worried.

"I'll try. But for right now, I think I'll look up some of the other parish records that Padre Saenz's predecessor might have collected during his study of the area." Derek responded, walking back to the small room which doubled as a library and office for the parish priest. He closed the door firmly behind him, silently locking it against intrusion. He could hear Nick moving around in the other room, talking to the rest of the team. Inside the office, Derek leaned on the desk, suddenly weary. It would be a long night for him, a night of reflection on his purpose in following this trail of odd clues. "_Following or being led_?" he mused, sitting behind the battered old desk Father Saenz used to complete the endless reams of paperwork that a small parish priest seemed to constantly be afflicted by.

"When did I ever try to lead you where you were not willing to follow?" a soft voice responded to his unspoken question. He turned to see Marianne standing in the moonlight, dressed in white and holding an English longbow in her hand. She leaned the bow against the window carefully then knelt at his feet, looking up at the precept's worried eyes. "You are worried that you have become obsessed by this hunt, as your father was obsessed with the sepulchers."

"Perhaps I am more my father's son than I want to believe." Derek replied, reaching out to stroke her dark hair.

"I knew your father, knew him better than he knew himself. We came to the Legacy that day, all those years ago in search of one to whom the knowledge of the Cup could be given, one who would know what to do when the time came. Your father's reputation as a warrior against the darkness was passed along to us, yet even then I had my doubts. When we met, I knew my fears were well founded. He had stared into the abyss too long. It had stared back at him and captured that part of his soul which kept him true to his quest." She curled her fingers around his hand, gently holding it. "I look at you and see none of the darkness which I saw in your father's eyes. You are not he, Derek Rayne. You are your own man, with your own destiny to fulfill."

"Will you stay when the hunt is over?" he asked, afraid of her answer.

"How can I stay? I am an Immortal, the Huntress who has existed from time's beginning. I would be as out of place in your world…"

"As I would be in yours." He finished her thought for her, his voice reflecting the sadness they both felt.

"Time enough for sadness tomorrow." She replied, pulling herself up and leading him to the window. "Tonight, let us think of nothing else but this moment, when we can be together."

Derek wrapped his arms around her slender frame and gazed out at the moonlit graveyard, his Sight for once not revealing what was to come.

Arkady fumed silently as he watched one of the local police officers slowly stack the contents of his pocket on the counter in front of them. It had taken him a good hour to finally convince the officer who had arrested him that he should be allowed to make a phone call and several more hours for his lawyer in San Francisco to find a counterpart in Madrid willing to speak on his behalf. "When I get my hands on that pair…" He muttered, snatching his wallet out of the officer's hands.

"Senor, I am sure that there is a reasonable explanation for what occurred in the plaza." The police chief strolled lazily out of his office, curious to see this "gringo" who had caused so much uproar. He had few chances to practice his English in this isolated village and while the man didn't seem terribly friendly, he was better than nothing.

"I gave your people an explanation." Arkady snapped, thrusting his watch into his pocket in exasperation.

"The senorita told my man a different story. Would you have him call her a liar?"

"What I want is to go back to my rooms and take a long hot bath." Arkady snarled, barely controlling his anger. "_It won't help matters to give these locals any other reason to keep me here_." he thought, all but running out of the police station. Behind him he could hear the amused laughter of his former jailers as they discussed something in their native tongue. He had the sneaking suspicion that he was the butt of this particular joke. He briefly wondered about the identity of the woman who had saved Boyle then dismissed the thought as unimportant. His reinforcements would be arriving soon and when they did, the Legacy members who had stood in his way for so long would be eliminated. Arkady smiled grimly as he made his way through the shadowed streets back to his rooms, planning his next move.


	25. Chapter 25

**pt.25**

Arkady entered the small hotel in which he had taken up residence, his eyes scanning the darkened interior for a familiar face. "_Where the hell is that manager_?" he fumed, walking quickly up to the desk.

"Senor Arkady?" a deep voice accosted him from a darkened corner of the room. Its owner, a tall, heavy-set Spaniard walked up to the desk, several other men trailing in his wake like ghosts.

"I'm Arkady. " he replied cautiously. "Who the devil are you?"

"Senor Ramon sent us."

Arkady looked over the men with renewed interest. Ramon, his representative in Spain, had promised to find the best mercenaries Arkady's money could buy. It seemed he had been fairly true to his word. The men before him looked as though there was little which could stand in their way. The man who had approached him was well over six feet tall, muscular frame and protruding eyes. A whitish scar ran from the corner of his eye to his jaw, evidence of a long-ago brawl. The two other men behind him were nondescript, young men with old eyes. One had shaggy blond hair which he pushed back from his face constantly. The other was dark haired, with a mustache and goatee which gave him a Byronic air. "It's about time he sent you along. We'll talk in my room." Arkady motioned the men to follow him up the stairs to his second floor room.

Inside the cramped sitting room attached to his bedroom (the best the little hostel had to offer) he pulled up a chair and motioned for the men to do the same. "Did Ramon tell you what I needed from you?"

The big man shrugged. "He said you had some problems you needed removed. My friends and I did not ask questions, especially after he told us how much you were willing to pay."

"Do any of you have experience with demolition?" Arkady asked, his voice non-committal.

"I do." One of the young men replied, leaning forward in his chair. His dirty blond hair fell in his face, concealing the overly bright gleam to his eyes.

Arkady eyed him skeptically. "What kind of experience?"

"Army rangers when I was in Nam." The man replied, rubbing his fingers over a scar on his arm. "They taught us how to do a lot of interesting things in Nam. Lots of interesting things."

"My friend is anxious to get started." The other young man commented, leaning forward in his chair to catch Arkady's eyes. His eyes were cold and dead, reflecting nothing of the man inside. "He's good at what he does. So am I. So let's get this show on the road, before the locals get too curious about the number of foreigners that have appeared on their doorstep."

Arkady nodded in approval. "_This one's smart_." he thought to himself, dismissing the larger man as merely the muscle and the blond as insane. "_That could prove beneficial_." He stretched his legs comfortably in front of him and smiled at his guests. "Gentleman, I have a little adventure for you."

--

Derek woke with a start, sitting up on the couch in confusion. The last memory he had of the previous night was standing before the window with Marianne, watching the night sky with its crescent moon and field of twinkling stars. "_What happened_?" he wondered, pushing down the blanket which covered his legs. "_How did I get here_?"

"Derek?" Alex's worried voice echoed from behind the closed door. "Are you all right? Can I come in?"

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his hands across his tired eyes.

"Nearly 5 in the morning." Alex pushed the office door open slowly, glancing around the darkened room till she found her mentor. Derek was seated on a lumpy looking couch, a patchwork blanket crumpled beside him. His shoes were tucked under the sofa along with his belt. "What happened to you? Did you fall asleep reading through the old records?"

"I must have." Derek agreed, looking down at his unbuttoned, crumpled shirt.

"When you didn't come back to the dining room, Nick and I were worried. You weren't exactly in the best of moods last night."

"I'm fine," Derek replied testily, fumbling to button his shirt. "Ask Padre Saenz if we can borrow some shovels and flashlights. I think the entrance to the cavern we're looking for is near that grave site. We must start looking for it before Arkady does."

Alex began to protest then thought better of it. Her precept was obviously in no mood for a debate on the merits of the evidence that had been found. As she turned to leave the room movement outside the window caught her eye. She moved closer and looked out across the misty early morning countryside, straining to see who or what besides themselves could be up at this hour. In the distance, near the plot of land where the records said the mysterious grave was to be found, something was moving back and forth. "What's that?"

"What are you looking at?" Derek asked, walking across the cold stone floor to stand beside her.

"Something there, in the distance. Can you see it?"

Derek squinted at the moving figure, trying to make out a shape. "It looks like some sort of bird."  
"Maybe it's the owl that attacked Nick." Alex stated, rubbing the glass to remove a layer of dirt. "Maybe someone's trying to tell us something."

"Maybe so." Derek replied quietly, turning back to fetch his shoes. "Let's not keep them waiting any longer."


	26. Chapter 26

**Pt.26**

Arkady pulled his rented car to a stop a short walk from the church, behind a row of deserted houses. The mercenaries he had hired were already piling out into the early morning air, gathering their equipment for the job ahead. There wasn't much gear, only a few knapsacks, one containing explosives and others with various weapons. The man with the dead eyes, whose name he had learned was Ayers, quietly pulled his backpack from the car's trunk, ignoring his acquaintances busy murmuring. He pulled his favorite gun and knife combination from the depths of the sack and strapped them on to his body then tucked another knife into his boot. Pulling a pair of very dark sunglasses out of his pocket, he surveyed the area unemotionally. "You coming with us?" Ayers asked, already knowing the answer. Generals never went into battle with grunts and rich men didn't dirty their hands when they could hire someone to do it for them.

"I think you can handle it." Arkady replied, not seeing the look which passed over the mercenary's face. "Just get it done quick and quiet and bring me what you find."

"Right. O'Hara, Mitchell, let's get going." Ayers turned to his team then stopped and squinted into the sunlight. A shadow seemed to dance swiftly down the wall of one broken down hut and disappear into the darkness. "Wait. Did either of you see that?"

"See what?" O'Hara, the demolitions expert replied, his voice a little slurred from the pills he had popped a few hours before. He set his case of detonators down beside the car and squinted back in the direction the other man was looking.

"Thought I saw something over there, by those ruins." The shadow he had seen returned suddenly, becoming more defined in shape, then disappeared again. "There, see that! Someone's watching us." Ayers pulled his Ruger from his belt and motioned his associates to flank the figure, making sure to keep it squarely in his sights. O'Hara went left, moving towards the remnants of a side window. Mitchell went right, angling towards a side door.

Arkady squinted into the rising daylight, struggling to see what had excited the soldiers. "There's no one there!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "You're wasting time!"

"Better to waste time now then get wasted by an ambush later." Ayers called back, stepping quickly and quietly towards the broken down house. He and the others soon disappeared from view.

Arkady watched the men enter the abandoned house with undisguised contempt. "Great! They'll corner a cat while the Legacy finds the Grail. I knew I shouldn't have left personnel decisions to someone else." His expression grew even more sour as the sun continued its slow rise in the sky, with no sign of the mercenaries returning from their search. It was almost fifteen minutes before all three men returned as quietly as they had left. "Well? Find anything?" he asked sarcastically.

"Animal tracks and garbage but nothing else." Mitchell responded, hefting some of the heavy equipment onto his shoulder.

"Didn't even see that much." O'Hara said, making sure his C-4 and detonators were carefully packed before he lifted them onto his back.

"There was something there." Ayers insisted. "Probably a kid on his way to school or work or what ever it is kids do around here. Let's just finish this gig. I've got a bad feeling about it already." He started down the road towards the church, his fellow soldiers in step behind him. Arkady watched them disappear into the early morning fog, then returned to his car and started for town. None heard the screaming voice which came from the depths of the dilapidated houses, or the soft, feminine laugh which followed.

--

Nick leaned on his shovel, a little winded. "I know they wanted to hide the entrance to this cave, but did they have to pile every available rock in the county on it?"

Philip grinned back at his friend, dirt smudging his handsome face. "Wouldn't do to make it too easy for us, would it now?" He straightened and stretched, easing his tired muscles before bending back to his work.

"Nothing is ever easy with the Legacy." Nick grumbled, wearily continuing to work. He, Philip, Alex and Derek had been at this for what seemed like hours, painstakingly moving large rocks from atop the gravesite to discover even more rocks beneath the first layer. Or at least, he and Philip had moved rocks. Alex and Derek had quickly become fascinated with marking they found on several of the larger stones and had set up a space beside a tree to examine them, leaving the two young men to do most of the physical labor alone. Nick had begun to believe that they were digging up the wrong grave when suddenly his shovel disappeared into a hole at his feet. "What?! Derek, I think I've found it!"

Derek looked up from a stone from the gravesite he had been examining. "What have you found?" he asked, moving to stand beside the grave site.

"Looks like an entrance to a small cave." Nick commented, carefully using Philip's shovel to dig around the open area he had uncovered. It was soon apparent that they had found the entrance to a small chamber built under the tomb. He eased himself carefully into the hole, flashlight in hand. "There's some kind of door here." He called back, excitement in his voice.

"Careful, Nick." Philip called out. "The Knights might have set traps around the door to keep intruders out."

"Great, now I'm Indiana Jones." Nick muttered, carefully playing the light around the door. There seemed to be no traps that he could see, and no latch or handle to open the door. "Derek, this thing looks more like a seal than a door."

"I'm coming in." Derek replied, carefully lowering himself into the small space. He shone his flashlight on the artifact in front of him and examined it closely. "You may be right, Nick. Look at the engraving on the metal. The same strange figures as we found on some of the stones you removed from the grave. They have also been found in other sites related to the Templars. This may be a seal meant to close up the entrance to something - a cave or storage area. We'll have to dig it out."

"Yeah, you mean Philip and I will." Nick commented, gently prying at the edges of the seal. "Alex, send down that pickax. I think I might be able to pry it lose. Also, toss down that knapsack of mine. I've got some other things in there I'm going to probably want to use once this thing comes down." He motioned his precept to move back and give him room to work.

"Right." Alex replied, handing Philip the requested implements. She glanced across the field to the small church where Padre Saenz and Jesus were watching. She frowned slightly. "Say, where did Jesus and the Padre disappear to?"

"What did you say?" Philip asked, looking up at her from the edge of the pit.

"Oh, never mind. They're probably just inside." She shrugged and focused her attention back on the hole in front of her, ignoring her sudden uneasiness.

--

Ayers looked down at the two helpless old men, checking to make sure their bonds were secure. They had been quickly overwhelmed by the younger and stronger men, putting up only a token resistance. There had been no talk of killing the two, even though they had seen the men's faces. Ayers knew that the death of the village priest would bring out not only the local authorities but probably any military in the area, something he knew his new employer would not appreciate. He watched expressionlessly as the group across the field worked at something. "Looks like they may have found the entrance to that cave Arkady told us about." He commented, lighting a cigarette.

"So, why don't we go in and take them out now?" Mitchell asked, looking up from his post at the door.

"Our orders are to wait until they collect this "item" the boss wants then kill them when they are on their way back out. That's where you come in, O'Hara. You'll set your charges so that we can collapse this cave in over their bodies with the minimum of fuss. Then we collect our fees and catch the first plane out."

"Works for me." O'Hara replied, hefting his revolver nervously. He risked a glance out of the doorway. "Looks like they're going in."

Ayers stubbed out his cigarette with a sigh. "Time to rock and roll."

--

"It's moving!" Nick called out, rocking the stone seal back and forth until it fell forward into the small alcove. It had taken over an hour to dig around the seal, carefully chipping away at old roots and rocks to loosen the large object. He peered anxiously into the darkness behind it, shining his flashlight into the gloom. "Man, it looks like there a major set of catacombs behind this thing. Air's pretty stale, but I think we can survive it if we don't waste a whole lot of time." He stepped forward gingerly and ducked under the low handing ceiling, crawling forward a few feet till he could stand upright. He panned the light in front of him, bouncing the light off the rocks. "This thing must go on for miles under the countryside!"

"Look on the walls beside you." Derek said, moving to climb over the fallen door. "There may be more marks like the one on the seal to show us our way."

"Yeah, here they are, about eye level. Looks like we go this way." Nick commented gesturing straight ahead. He motioned Derek to precede him.

Derek reached out tentatively to touch one of the symbols, unsure of what was driving him. As he brushed his fingers along the damp stone, the images flooded his mind, images of two men, one elderly and one much younger, digging in the caves, fear pouring from them like sweat. The older man stopped and using a small crock of paint, began to make the marks on the walls, some to lead to the heart of the labyrinth, some to lead away. And in the background, above all the other images, was a voice which whispered over and over "Chevalier, this is the way." He pulled his hand away quickly, breaking his contact with the stone and the visions then turned to look back at his team, who watched him soberly. "No. We go to the right. Straight ahead is a dead end."

Nick was the first to respond. "Whatever you say, boss. Derek, you take point, then Alex and Philip. I'll bring up the rear. Just in case Arkady decides to pull any surprises out of his hat." He gripped his precept's shoulder briefly, trying to gauge his condition. Derek nodded distractedly and turned back to look down the corridor.

"That's a cheerful thought." Philip commented, helping Alex over the fallen stone seal.

"Better safe than dead." Nick replied, reaching back into the alcove for one of the bags Alex had dropped in to him. From its depth he pulled out a Glock semi-automatic.

"Where did that come from?" Alex asked, frowning. "I thought you told me last night that you lost your gun to the local cops in the town plaza."

"I did." Nick explained, popping a clip into the gun. "But that was the Browning. This is a Glock, a present from a friend of mine I was in service with. It's a backup."

"You won't need a gun." Alex continued patiently. "The Grail shouldn't hurt us, and any supernatural guardians it might have won't be affected by that."

"This may not work on ghost and demons but it'll work just fine on Arkady or anyone he decides to send down here." Nick replied, tossing a bag of extra flashlights and ammo at her. They started down the darkened corridor, their footsteps echoing eerily in the darkness.


	27. Chapter 27

**Pt.27**

The group walked for what seemed hours, using their flashlights and lanterns to light their way. The air was stale and dusty, yet breathable. The caverns themselves were incredibly elaborate, branching off at times into several different routes and different directions. Each time, Derek knew instinctively which route to take. It was as though the proper symbols called to him in a voice only he could hear, a voice that called him to something or someone who was waiting. His lantern was always pointed at odd angles as though he did not need its uncertain light to show him the way. He moved ahead of the group with assurance, avoiding low hanging rocks and tree roots that seemed determined to snare the other searchers.

Alex watched with concern as her precept as he moved hurriedly through the rough corridors. "Philip, Derek's acting almost as though he's been in these tunnels before." She commented, whispering to the young priest at her side. She stumbled on yet another unseen rock formation and muttered something rude under her breath.

Philip had also been watching his old friend with concern. "Perhaps it is the Grail which is calling to him?" he commented, reaching out to steady Alex as she stumbled.

"Maybe, but what if it's those two mysterious people who have been goading us into this search from the first? What if they want Derek to find the Grail for reasons of their own?"

"If they want it, why don't they just come down here and get it?" Nick whispered, stopping briefly to look behind them. The others were making too much noise for his taste, making them too easy to track.

"Maybe they can't." Alex replied practically. She stopped as well to look back at her friend.

"They are long lived, and most likely quite powerful. Why wouldn't they be able to take the Grail if they wanted to?" Philip said, stopping as well.

Derek turned angrily and shone his light on his errant crew. "What are you three waiting for? It's only a little further." He gestured behind him then abruptly plunged into the darkness, dropping his lantern with a clang.

"Derek!" Alex exclaimed, darting in his direction. She skidded to a stop suddenly.

"Alex, what's wrong?" Nick asked, running up to her side. He found himself facing two tunnels, either of which his angry precept could have taken. "Which one do we pick?"

"There are signs on both sets of walls." Philip commented, shinning his light on the stone face. "But without Derek to tell which set is real and which set is false, we could find ourselves wandering underground for days."

"Nick, Alex, Philip! This way!" Derek's voice echoed eerily through the tunnel on the left. "It's here!"

"Looks like he found it." Nick commented, motioning the other two to proceed him into the tunnel. The trio moved as quickly as they could through the narrow corridor till they could see a light in front of them, emanating from a small room at the end of the tunnel. Their precept was standing in the doorway, staring into its interior.

"Derek?" Alex asked hesitantly, reaching his side first. She glanced into the room and gasped. There, in a small niche in the wall, was a small metal goblet, much like the chalice she had seen used in church services. A golden light poured from the cup, filling the room with its color and warmth. "Is that …the Grail? I never imagined it would be so ….golden!"

"Golden?" Philip said, surprised. "No, it's a stone bowl!" To his eyes, the object in the niche was not metal and not golden but roughly made of stone, the simple implement of a carpenter.

"Stone? Sorry, Philip, I've got to go with Alex. That looks like a golden cup to me." Nick replied, moving past his friend to examine the room.

"Each of us sees the Grail as we expect to see it." Derek replied, moving slowly towards the alcove. "Alex, you said you never imagined it as a golden cup, but when you read the stories of the Knights of the Round Table searching for this, a golden cup is probably exactly how you imagined it. Nick, the same is probably true for you. Philip, you would have seen it as a simple stone cup because that is what you believe that Christ would have used."

"What do you see?" Philip asked, seeing the entranced look on his precept's face.

"Light. I see …Light." Derek moved to within arms reach of the cup and stopped, overwhelmed with emotion. In his mind, the voice which had led him to this spot was speaking louder than ever. "_Reach out to it_." the voice said urgently. "_Reach out and take it from its spot. The time is now_." He slowly stretched out his hand to the source of the light.

"That's far enough." A rough voice from the doorway ordered.


	28. Chapter 28

**Pt.28**

From behind them three figures emerged from the gloom, each carrying automatics. Nick whirled around, reaching for his weapon. He stopped short at the sight of one of the men pointing his gun at Alex's head. "Let me guess, you're Arkady's goons."

"Bright boy." One man sneered, keeping his gun trained on Nick. "Give it up soldier."

Nick tossed his revolver at the man in disgust. "I knew we were being set up. Should have followed my instincts."

One of the armed men stepped forward "So, where's the treasure?"

"What treasure?" Philip asked, moving to stand beside Alex.

"Don't play dumb." Replied one of the men, moving his flashlight slowly around the confines of the small grotto. "O'Hara, start setting up your little toys."

"Yeah, right Ayers." the younger man replied, gingerly dropping his pack on the ground. "Hey Mitchell, what's that on the far wall?"

"Just a brass cup." The larger mercenary replied, sliding quietly around the group. He glanced at the cup sitting in its niche then focused his attention on the prisoners. "Ayers, there's nothing here that would be worth taking back. What now?"

Nick watched angrily as Arkady's hired thug started to remove small devices from his knapsack. It took only a few moments for him to recognize the types of items the mercenary was assembling. "You're going to blow the place, aren't you?" He asked the mercenaries leader.

"Does it matter?" Ayers replied, gesturing with his gun for Nick to join Philip and Alex. "Tell us where this treasure Arkady wants retrieved is and we'll all walk out of here together."

Alex and Philip glanced at each other in puzzlement. It was as though none of the mercenaries was seeing the Grail for what it was. The holy symbol appeared to be nothing more to them than a brass cup, not the most treasured of religious icons. "Derek?" Alex whispered, trying to break through her precept's intense concentration.

Her friend ignored her, seemingly unaware of the events that were transpiring behind him. Derek looked at the cup, seeing the radiance that flowed from it. It was as though the chalice was alive with power, alive with the force of its own light. The voice which had called to him seemed louder now than ever before. "Reach out and take it." it demanded, spurring him to movement. He slowly approached the niche and raised the cup from its hiding place, staring down at it with spell-bound eyes.

"What the hell is he doing?" asked O'Hara, pausing from his work with the explosives.

"Maybe it's that cup we're supposed to bring back." Mitchell replied calmly, his eyes never leaving Derek's still form. "Toss me a sack."

"It can't be just that old brass cup." O'Hara said angrily. "You can get a dozen of those in the markets for twenty bucks. Arkady said they were after a treasure."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Ayers commented pensively. "Mitchell, put the cup in the sack and let's move. Our employer isn't the most patient of men."

"Right." Mitchell agreed, tossing the sack to Derek.

Derek looked at the bag in his hand and at the man who had given it to him. His eyes turned cold and for a moment the Legacy group could see the spirit of the Templar Knight looking out of their precept's eyes. "No. You can not have this. Its power can not be taken by evil."

"Fine time for him to wake up." Nick muttered, assessing his chances of overpowering the mercenary closest to him. O'Hara stared back at him darkly, each recognizing the hunter in the other.

"Give it up and no one gets hurt." Ayers spoke in a calm, almost friendly fashion, belying the cold look in his eyes.

"Derek, it's all right. Give him the cup." Alex pleaded, her concern for her mentor's life overpowering her horror at their situation.

"Never." Derek replied coldly.

"Your choice." Ayers stepped forward and aimed his revolver at Alex's face.

"No, wait!" Philip exclaimed, moving to his old friend's side. He gently pried the bag from Derek's fingers and pulled it over the cup, still clutched in the other man's hand. "Derek, we have no choice. God will understand."

"Will he?" Derek replied, suddenly weary. "Will she understand? I've failed to protect it again. I failed my lady. Darkness has triumphed. How can God or my good Lady ever forgive that?" He reluctantly let the young priest take the chalice from his hand and hand it to the larger mercenary, who gravely tucked the bag's extra fold around the cup.

"Let's get this over with." O'Hara rapped out, setting the last of his charges.

"Yes, it is time for this to end." Ayers agreed. He turned and motioned to Mitchell and O'Hara to precede him. The Legacy group tensed, prepared for the hail of bullets that would shortly end their lives. Only Derek seemed unconcerned, numbed by the loss of the Grail.

Suddenly a low growl emanated from the corridors behind them. Two sets of vivid blue eyes moved out of the gloom, staring hungrily at the armed mercenaries. In the blink of an eye, Ayers and O'Hara were on the ground, wrestling with two of the largest wolves the Legacy team had ever seen. The carnivores were white, long furred. But it was not their size or obvious ferocity that stunned the Nick and the others. It was their eyes. These large canines had human eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

**Pt.29**

"Mitchell, help us!" O'Hara screamed, blood flowing from his arm. The wolf sitting on top ignored his preys frantic screams, shaking his jaws back and forth as he slowly crushed the man's windpipe. Ayers fumbled madly for the gun he had dropped when the second animal had knocked him over, but it was too far away. With a snap, the wolf finished off his victim, then looked up to assess the remaining humans in the room.

"What in God's name…?" Philip gasped, taking a step back from the wolves.

"Now is not the time." Nick replied, grabbing the young priest by the arm. "Alex, get Derek! We're out of here!" He considered briefly making an attempt to retrieve his fallen weapon but the intelligence gleaming from the wolves eyes told him that would be a very bad decision. He glanced back to see that the last of the three mercenaries had dropped his gun and was standing frozen against the far wall, too far to be off any help or to be a hindrance. "Derek, we need to go now!"

Derek looked at his friend coldly. "Go? I will go nowhere until the Chalice is safe." His voice had an eerie tone to it, as though another man's words were being spoken through the Precepts mouth.

"Philip has the Chalice. We've got to get out of here before those explosives bury us under the Spanish countryside." Nick gave Philip a none too gentle shove towards the tunnels, ignoring the growls from the wolves as they dragged their prey into a corner. Derek followed closely behind them, moving slowly so as not to startle the canine hunters before him.

"What about him?" Alex whispered, horror in her voice. She nodded slightly towards the still figure of the remaining mercenary.

"The predators have become the prey." Derek replied, grimly, reaching to take the sack containing the Chalice from the young priest. "Leave him to his fate." He stepped around the bloody trail on the floor in front of him and moved out into the darkened corridor.

Nick agreed silently with his Precept's words, though he suspected that there was more to his friend's unusual behavior than he knew. He motioned Alex to move towards the door, keeping his eyes trained on the wolves. For their part, they seemed to be as interested in watching him as he was in watching them. Yet strangely they made no move to stop the group as they slowly backed out of the cave. As soon as they were out of the animal's sight, he and Alex ran down the corridor, catching up with Philip and Derek only a few yards from the grotto.

Behind them in the cavern, the wolves quickly lost interest in the now cooling bodies before them, contenting themselves to lick the blood from each others fur. One wolf looked up at the figure against the wall and whined softly.

"Yes, I know. We've interfered again. But frankly, I didn't think they would ever get on with it." In the gloom, the large form of the surviving mercenary seemed to shiver and change. A light again filled the room, but this time it came not from a simple cup in the wall but from the form of the young man stepping out of the gloom. Damien glanced briefly at the explosive device O'Hara had been working on just before he was attacked. "A simple little device. Just enough, I think, for what we want." He bent and completed the assembly, setting the timer for five minutes, then waved the wolves towards the door. "Off with you. Your mistress and I will be with you shortly." He waited until the wolves disappeared into the darkness of the tunnels, then flipped the final switch. As an ominous ticking sound filled the cavern, the light which had surrounded his dimmed and died, leaving behind only the dead and the promise of more death to come.

Derek stopped in his tracks and shivered, recognizing their flight as the scene from his vision. Yet something was missing. Something…

"Never send a boy to do a man's work." A voice remarked. Arkady stepped out of the gloom of one of the adjoining corridors, a gun clutched in his hand. "Well, at least this saves me from having to pay their fee."

"Arkady. I'm surprised it took you so long to make your appearance." Derek replied, stepping back slightly into the shadows.

"Oh, you know how it is. I like to make an entrance. Now if you'll just hand over that sack…"

"Sack?" Derek replied innocently, "What sack?"

"Don't play games with me, Rayne. I know you've found the Grail. Now, hand it over and maybe I'll let you leave with your lives."

"I don't think she'll agree to that." Nick commented, pointing his flashlight just over Arkady's shoulder.

"Oh please, you can't really expect me to fall for that old…" the sound of wolves howling in the corridor behind him stopped Arkady in his tracks. He jerked around suddenly as the sound seemed to get closer, giving Nick the edge he needed. Swiftly, the young soldier brought the heavy flashlight down on Arkady's skull, dropping the man in his tracks.

"Good move." Alex breathed, relief in her tone. She looked back at her precept, who had not moved from the shadows. "Derek?"

"We must go, and go now." Derek insisted, edging around his fallen enemy. "The bomb they planted will go off any minute."

"I don't think they finish setting up the explosives." Nick protested, stepping over Arkady's prone body. "Baring an act of God, we should be home free…"

The sound of the explosion cut off the rest of his thoughts.


	30. Chapter 30

**Pt.30**

"Run!" Derek commanded, shielding himself from the falling stones. All around him, the cave walls shuddered and buckled under the force of the explosion. Philip and Alex followed his command without question, running blindly down the disintegrating corridor towards what they hoped was the cave entrance.

"What about Arkady" Nick called out to his Precept, crouching over the unconscious form on the ground.

"We can't leave him." Derek shouted, though everything in him screamed it was a fitting punishment for this servant of the Darkness. He reached out to help Nick pull the man onto his feet and drape him over Nick's shoulders in a fireman's carry.

The young soldier grimaced as rocks and grit assaulted him as he tried to move quickly with the other's dead weight weighing him down. "Why did I know he was going to say that?" he groused, trying to hurry down the corridor after his friends.

Derek started after his group, then stopped in confusion. The sack he had been holding, the sack which had held the most priceless of Christian artifacts was now no longer with him. Somehow, when the explosion had hit, he lost his hold on it and now it was hidden in caverns darkness. "I can't leave without it." he thought frantically, dropping to his knees to search for it.

"Derek, come on! This cave's going to bury us all if you don't hurry!" Nick's voice called out of the gloom.

Derek ignored his friend's voice, desperate to find the item he had traveled so far to find. As he leaned forward, the chain on which he kept Marianne's token swung forward, its weight reminding him of its presence. He reached down to clasp the arrow in his hand, his mind numb with fatigue and guilt. 'I have failed you, Lady."

"No, you did what we wished you to do." A voice in his head responded. A silvery light seemed to envelope him, covering him with its cool glow. The dust and rocks reflected the glow, dancing in its light until they came together to form an image. An image of a woman in white holding a staff. Marianne's eyes were calm and clear and on her face was a gentle smile. "We never expected you to take the Chalice to the world. Only to stop the representative of the Darkness from taking it from its place of sanctuary. Now we will take it to a place where it will be guarded until the time it may be revealed to the world in safety."

"What must happen now?" Derek asked, afraid to hear the words he knew must come.

"Now you must go home and leave the rest to us." She replied, brushing an errant lock of hair from his eyes.

"Will we meet again?"

"Not even the Immortals know all that Fate has planned for us. But perhaps, one day, you will look across a crowded room and see a pair of familiar eyes. Who can say?" Marianne gently lifted Derek from his knees and set him back on the path. "Time to go."

Derek blinked, startled. "What?" he sputtered, awakened suddenly as though from a dream. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a familiar voice sounded a farewell. Then there was nothing but the rumbling sound of the cavern as it collapsed in on itself. He turned and fled up the still opened path.

--

Alex and Philip reached the cave's entrance first, scrambling up towards the surface as quickly as their tired legs could take them. "Where's Nick and Derek?" Alex exclaimed, peering back into the dark cavern they had just run from.

"They were just behind us." Philip replied, coughing from the dust. "Wait, there's Nick!"

Nick stumbled from the cave, dropping Arkady's body none too gently on the ground in front of him. "Derek was right behind me, then he stopped and went back."

"He'll be buried alive!" Alex exclaimed, trying to dart around her partner to reenter the cave.

"No Alex!" Philip grabbed her as she went by, holding her arm. "Look, there he is!"

Derek stumbled out of the cave just as its roof collapsed. He looked back at the now ruined cavern then at his team. "Is everyone all right?"

"We're fine but why did you take such a risk going back?" Philip asked.

"The chalice. I dropped it when the explosion first hit us. I thought I could find it but…" he looked thoughtfully at the blocked entrance to the Grail's hiding place. "Perhaps it was never meant to be found."

"Then why the hell did our two "friends" go to all this trouble to make sure we found it?" Nick asked, exasperated.

"Maybe to see if mankind were ready to find such a powerful item." Alex offered, looking down at the still form of Arkady. "I guess the answer was no."

"What do we do about him?" Nick nudged the still form with his toe, watching for any signs of life.

"Leave him. The local police will have a few questions for him when he awakens. Right now, I think we need to see if Padre Saenz and Jesus are all right." He started off across the field, his team trailing along behind him. Derek wondered briefly if he should tell them about Marianne's words to him in the cavern, then thought better of it. Her words had been for him alone, something he would carry with him until the next time his soul and hers would meet.

-- 

**Epilogue**

Efraim de la Vega, Precept of the Madrid House, paced his underground chamber worriedly. His conversation with Jesus had been brief but to the point. The old man and his cousin, the village priest, had suffered no lasting harm from their brush with darkness, yet Efraim had insisted that his House member take some time to rest and recuperate from his ordeal. The members of the San Francisco House were already on their way back home, having at once found and lost the prize they had come so far to find. Yet Efraim had the feeling that his former student was not so distressed at the loss of the Grail as the loss of his one point of contact with the mysterious Lady who had led him to it.

"I wouldn't worry too much on that score." An amused voice sounded from the doorway. Damien stood bathed in sunlight, no mean feat as they were in an underground cavern. Behind him, Efraim could hear the sound of wolves howling in the distance. "My lady sister has a nasty habit of turning up at the most unexpected times and in the most inconvenient places." Damien tossed a well worn sack to the man with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"What is this?" Efraim asked, though in his soul he knew what the answer must be.

"The Grail, of course. We couldn't leave it under all that rubble. It wouldn't be respectful of the power of the new religion. Take it to the place in Portugal which has been prepared for it. The brethren there know what must be done." The light dimmed slowly as the young man walked back through the doorway.

Efraim looked down at the sack in his hand then quickly found a chest to tuck it into. For a moment he considered simply locking the chalice away until he could arrange for its transport. But the call of his faith was too loud to ignore. Reverently, he placed the sack on top of the chest and slowly unpacked its contents, gazing in awe at the simple item which stood before him. There were no words to express his feelings, gazing down at this small stone cup, a tangible link to his God. He gazed at the chalice for a moment in awe and wonder then reluctantly lifted the trunks lid and gently placed the Grail, sack and all, in its depths. He locked the trunk then started up the stairs to have Miguel book him on the first plane out of the country.

--

Derek sat lost in thought, the private Legacy jet winging its way back to San Francisco. The other members of the team were dozing in their seats, exhausted as much from the emotional farewell the Madrid House had shown them as the adventure itself. For his part, Derek was unsure of how he felt about leaving. On the one hand, he was saddened to know that the Grail would not be proven more than a myth. Yet at the same time, he was glad that Arkady had not been able to defile it with his evil. Still, there was something incomplete about the feel of this adventure, something that was missing. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the wave of vertigo that assaulted him as his Sight took him to another place and another scene…

In the garden of the Luna Foundation mansion, Kat practiced diligently with the bow and arrow set she had managed to get her mother to buy for her. She carefully lined up her shot and released the arrow, taking care not to let the string hit her as it had the first few times she had tried. The slender shaft flew a few feet and buried itself in the grass with the others, none of whom had made it to the target. "I'll never get the hang of this." She thought to herself.

"Sure you will." A pleasant voice replied from behind her. Kat spun around to see a familiar form walk around the corner of the house. Marianne was again dressed in her short white tunic and held her bow firmly in her hands. Behind her were two large gray wolves, each trotting a respectful distance behind her. "You just need practice. And a better bow." She took the plastic bow from the child with a frown then tossed it behind her. "I'm sure if you look behind you there will be something much better that you can use."

Kat turned and gasped in delight. A small wooden bow stood propped against the target, a quiver of colorful arrows draped beside it. She ran and took up her new toy, running gentle fingers over its well carved form. "It's beautiful!"

"Take great care of your weapon child and it will take great care of you. Now come and I will show you how to use it for I have not much time here."

"You're leaving?" Kat asked, sadly.

"Not for long and not for forever. Just for now. But let us worry about such parting later. For now, let's see if you can learn to make this bow hum." She enveloped the child in an affectionate hug then led her back to where the wolves were waiting. Her melodious laugh was soon joined by the child's voice as a friendship was cemented and a alliance was formed.

Derek opened his eyes slowly, a smile crossing his handsome face. His heart was lighter now, content in the realization that he and his Legacy family would continue to bask in the attention and love of his Lady Huntress. He fingered the arrow pendant around his neck as he drifted off to peaceful sleep, dreaming of a sylvan glade and a woman's laughter heard over the sound of hunting horns.


End file.
